Keep Me Where the Light Is
by mamatots
Summary: AU. Sequel to Her Smile Heals Me. Set in Manhattan, in 2022. Brittany & Santana are older and trying to navigate life and career while keeping their relationship strong. Will wanting more be too much for them to handle?
1. Bright Lights

**Disclaimer**: I only borrowed these characters from the Fox show **Glee**. I obviously do not own them, because if I did then Santana Lopez would be able to freely kiss and serenade her girlfriend girlfriend anywhere she wanted and Brittany S. Pierce would speak candidly and often (except on the many occasions when her mouth was busy singing duets with or lip-locking with her girlfriend who is not a bad person or when she's eating shrimp Santana buys for her on their dates that are not held within the bathtub).

Further, I do not own the songs or their lyrics that are referenced within this story…therefore, no copyright infringement was intended. There are also references to both fictional and non-fictional locations, theatres, restaurants, and Broadway musicals as the backdrop for this story. Any references are filtered through my creative brain and memory and set forward several years into the future so please do not slaughter me if I alter something you know well.

Additionally, I make some medical references within this story. I do not profess to be any kind of expert on the topic. I only reference them as I remember from my own personal experience. If you desire more details then you can research these topics.

The rest of this story is mine so please do not use any part of it without my written permission. I've marked this for a mature audience, because it contains topics that mature adults encounter, including **gratuitous sex** and **strong language**. I hope you enjoy what I've written. I would really appreciate your constructive feedback. Thanks! Kim (mamatots)

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 1) **

**By mamatots**

_Oh twice as much ain't twice as good_

_And can't sustain like one half could_

_It's wanting more_

_That's gonna send me to my knees…_

(Gravity ~ John Mayer)

**Friday, June 10, 2022**

Brittany sprinted down the back corridor of the Gershwin Theatre, narrowly avoiding a collision with a garment rack full of colorful costumes being rolled along the low-lit passageway by a burly stagehand.

"Oh sorry!" she shouted over her shoulder to him as she rushed toward the exit door.

She pushed hard on the long metal handle, opening the heavy door and stepping out into bright sunlight.

"Brittany!"

The blonde chorus dancer heard her name shouted just as the door slammed shut behind her, leaving her no way to reopen it.

"Shit," she cursed, shifting her messenger bag and the large duffle bag she held from one hand to the other, searching the pockets of her knit dance pants for her phone.

She patted her hips without finding it then she squatted to rummage through her bag when the large door opened with a clang.

A slender guy in his late twenties with light brown hair said, "Your phone."

"Thanks, Austin," she reached up to take the cell phone from him, "I'm sooo late."

"You'll make it," Austin Royle said with faked-assurance but a supportive smile, "You've got twenty-six minutes."

"Twenty-six minutes to go seven blocks…crosstown," Brittany specified with skepticism, standing back up.

"You'll make it," Austin repeated, pulling her by her elbow as he ran the two of them up the sidewalk to the corner of 51st Street and 8thAvenue, "You just need a well-timed cab."

"There's no cab in Midtown that's going to stop at five o'clock on a Friday," Brittany groused, checking her watch to see that it was now 5:08 pm.

"They will if you do this," Austin assured her, stepping off the curb into the turn lane and jumping up and down, flailing his arms wildly.

"Austin…you look like a crazy person," Brittany shouted at her long-time friend.

"Then I fit right in with the rest of Manhattan," he joked as he was almost hit by a fast-rolling yellow cab which whizzed past the duo, "Damn cab drivers!"

Austin Royle as an adult was nothing like the timid, insecure high school boy Brittany met eleven years earlier at summer dance camp. This Austin Royle was confident and determined to get her to her 5:30 appointment.

"You're going to get yourself killed, and I don't have time for that," she said, pulling him back onto the curb by the sleeve of his lightweight cardigan, "Santana is already going to be so pissed at me."

He waived frantically at the next cab that was passing, shocked when its driver pulled over to the curb, stopping six feet ahead of them. "Aahh, it worked! Go go go," he screamed, pushing Brittany toward it as a tall man in a business suit came running from the other direction, "Oh no you don't…this cab's ours!"

"Fucking faggot," the young businessman grumbled as his path was assiduously cut off by Austin's faster reach for the passenger door handle, turning around in a huff.

"Happy Friday to you too!" Austin shouted undeterred, adding with a wave of his hand and a sarcastic grin, "Tell your boyfriend I said 'hi'…and 'you're welcome'."

The guy flipped them off but kept walking, never hanging up his cell phone call, and Brittany rolled her big blue eyes at her wonderfully-snarky friend.

"What? He looked familiar," Austin winked as he opened the back door for Brittany to slide in, handing her duffle bag to her, saying before he slammed the door shut, "Good luck to you guys…this time it's going to work!"

Brittany smiled and gave him a thumbs-up through the window as she said to the cab driver, "58th and Lexington…please hurry!"

She pulled out her phone as she watched them race past theatres and restaurants and tall office buildings, heading across Midtown Manhattan toward on Lexington Avenue. She checked her texts, finding a recent one from Santana that said: where are you?

Brittany glanced again at her watch.5:19 pm. _Damn_, she thought as she dialed Santana's phone.

The Latina answered after the first ring. "Please tell me you are on your way," she said dryly.

"I am on my way," Brittany responded as requested, trying to sound convincing as the cab driver made a left turn at the intersection of 54th and Madison. She took a big gulp of air, sending up a mental prayer to the God of Green Lights.

"Good…cause otherwise…I look pretty damn silly sitting here in this paper gown," Santana stated.

"I will be there…don't start without me," Brittany joked.

"I've gotta go…the doctor just walked in," Santana informed her, adding in an emphasized whisper, "Hurry!"

Brittany hung up the phone as their cab came to a screeching halt at Madison and 58th. Her driver honked at the stacked cars in front of them, none of them moving through the green light. Brittany craned her long neck, trying to see if there was any way their cab could make its turn onto 58th Street to get around whatever the problem was up ahead, before she looked back down at her watch.

"Can you go around them? Please? I've got six minutes to get there," she pleaded with her driver who was cursing at the traffic in a language she did not recognize.

The older man turned toward her and stated the obvious, "I can't go until they move."

The blonde nervously pulled her cash out of her messenger bag, ready to give it to the driver the moment they arrived at her destination. As more horns started honking in response and the traffic light turned red, Brittany tossed the money to the driver, saying, "Here…keep the change!"

She jumped out of the cab, throwing her bag over her head and moving it around to her back, and darted between two other stopped cars to reach the sidewalk on the other side of 58th Street, making a mad dash the rest of the way up the street until she reached a posh office building just past Lexington. Out of breath and breaking a sweat in the June heat, she opened the large glass door and moved quickly past a uniformed guard who sat behind an oval desk.

"Good afternoon," the young man said pleasantly to her as she passed him and walked toward the set of elevators along the lobby wall.

Brittany responded with a smile, stepping into the elevator that opened for her almost immediately and pushing a button for the fourth floor. She watched the floors light up above her head as she breathed heavily.

Swallowing hard, she caught her breath just as the door dinged and opened across from a door made of frosted glass. Etched on the door was DR. DEREK Q. LE, MD, HCLD

Brittany pulled open the door and walked up to the receptionist. The young Asian girl looked up and smiled in recognition, "She's in room three…to the left."

"Thanks," Brittany returned the smile and made her way to the exam rooms, stopping at the third door and knocking lightly.

The door opened, and a middle-aged Asian man told her with his accented-dialect, "Oh good…we're about to start."

Brittany walked into the brightly lit exam room, seeing Santana sitting on a beige, padded exam table dressed in a blue paper gown, her lower half covered in a blue paper drape.

The blonde smiled at the brunette who rolled her brown eyes at her. Brittany set her two bags near Santana's bag which was behind the chair that sat next to the exam table, attempting another smile toward Santana as she sat down and took her right hand into her own.

"Ok, Santana…timing looks right this month…try to relax, and I'll be right back," Dr. Le advised, adding in his awkwardly-comical fashion, "Don't go anywhere."

As soon as the door closed, Santana grumbled, "Good thing that joke never gets old."

Brittany leaned over and kissed Santana on the lips, "This is so exciting, honey."

"I'm just glad you made it," Santana emphasized, shifting uncomfortably on the table.

"Not even a late rehearsal and a traffic jam could keep me away…," Brittany joked good-naturedly, "…though it's not like I have much of a role here."

Santana frowned, "Well, you should at least be in the same room when we make a baby…don't you think?"

Brittany realized her humor was lost on her wife at this point in their fertility efforts. The couple had been jumping through all the necessary medical hoops for the past fifteen months with Santana taking all the prescribed medication and with them coming to all the required appointments just to get to the point of insemination today. Brittany knew the previous three attempts that were unsuccessful were probably the only thing in Santana's mind today.

"Hey…," Brittany put her arms around the brunette and squeezed her tightly, "…I've got an awesome feeling about this cycle."

"Yeah?" Santana looked up at Brittany, searching for reassurance that this time their effort and their emotional and monetary investment would pay off.

"Absolutely!" Brittany smiled brightly which instantly made Santana feel better.

There was a hard rap on the door right before it opened, and Dr. Le walked back in followed by his female assistant.

The assistant handed a clear vial to Santana, asking her, "Ms. Lopez-Pierce, if you'll confirm the information on this vial is yours."

Santana looked it over, checking that it had her name, birth date, and social security number typed on it before she handed it back to the older woman.

"All good?" the doctor asked for confirmation as he took it from his nurse.

"Yes," Santana replied, assuring that the vial of sperm from their anonymous donor was correctly matched to her medical information.

"Then Brittany…if you will hold on to this and keep it warm for us," Dr. Le handed her the vial as he always did as part of his gesture of participation.

Brittany held up the vial, looking at it curiously. It was still amazing to her that she and Santana paid $400 to a sperm bank in the Pacific Northwest for each vial of sperm. The blonde's nose wrinkled when she added up that this was their fourth vial used in the last fifteen months, totaling $1600 just in sperm alone. She was unsure how much of that amount actually went to the anonymous donor for his contribution, but she chuckled slightly at the thought that they now paid dearly for the same stuff that she and Santana used to throw out in condoms.

"What's funny?" Santana asked, looking over at her amused wife with a grimace.

Brittany cleared her throat, responding more seriously, "Nothing…sorry."

"Santana…move down to the end of the table please," Dr. Le requested as he lowered the top part of the exam table by a button on an attached remote, lowering Santana's head so she was flat. He then motioned for her to put her feet up into the examination stirrups.

Santana always hated this part of the procedure, grimacing toward Brittany as the doctor inserted a metal specula. Brittany squeezed Santana's hand and smiled sweetly, knowing the medical instrument was painful for her wife.

Once the doctor had her prepped and ready, he said, "Brittany…I'll take that from you."

The tall blonde leaned toward him and handed him the vial of sperm she'd been warming in her hand, sitting back down in the chair beside Santana and taking her hand again.

The couple watched Dr. Le as he walked over to the counter and opened the vial to extract the sperm with a long syringe then came back over to the exam table and slowly inserted it inside Santana to distribute its contents in the necessary location.

The whole procedure was over in minutes, and the doctor removed the specula before wheeling back on his little rolling stool and removing his latex gloves, tossing them into the silver trashcan near him.

"That should do it…now we wait," he said matter-of-factly, "Go home and try to recline as much as possible for the next few hours."

Santana and Brittany had heard this part before. They knew the next thing Dr. Le would say too.

"You can take an over-the-counter pregnancy test after fourteen days," he informed them for the fourth time.

The girls looked at each other, and Brittany smiled encouragingly though in the back of her mind she had the same doubts she saw on Santana's face. This IUI procedure had not resulted in pregnancy the previous three times, but they both remained hopeful that this time everything would align perfectly.

"So just hang out in here for the next thirty minutes then you can get dressed and head home," Dr. Le said with an enthusiastic smile then left the room with his assistant.

Brittany leaned over and kissed Santana sweetly on the lips, reminding her, "I love you."

Santana sighed heavily.

"Stop worrying," Brittany told her.

"I'm not…I'm optimistic," Santana tried to cover, forcing a smile but failing miserably, "See, this is my optimistic face."

Brittany laughed, "Uhuh…you look like you ate some bad curry."

Santana's face fell, losing all pretenses. "I just want this so much."

"I know, honey…I want it too," she assured her wife, "Just remember…anything worth having is worth waiting for."

"You sound like your dad."

"He would also tell you not to borrow worry," Brittany winked, "Forget about the times that haven't worked, and let's enjoy the hope that this time will work, ok?"

Santana took a deep breath, seeing enough hope in Brittany's blue eyes for the both of them. "Okay," she agreed with a less-forced smile.

* * *

><p>The city streets were still full of activity when Brittany and Santana left Dr. Le's office at six thirty. They were grateful for the doctor's car service he provided for patients who had procedures done, though Santana could not help but feel rather silly when Brittany insisted she lay flat in the backseat on the ride home.<p>

The driver sped quickly through the Midtown streets as he drove them down toward the lower part of Manhattan, merging and making turns, fighting the Friday night traffic. After being bounced around in the backseat for half the trip home, Santana tried to sit up.

"This is making me carsick," she said as she lowered her feet to the floor of the car and sat up.

Brittany instantly pulled her back down into her lap. "Honey, you heard the doctor," she insisted.

"Brittany…I'm going to throw up all over you and the back of this car."

The driver turned around to look at the girls as he came to a stop at a red light, a fearful look on his aged face.

"She's fine…no worries," Brittany smiled at the older, Middle Eastern man.

"No, I'm not," Santana pulled up again and buzzed down the passenger window, thankful for the night breeze.

Brittany sighed heavily and reached across the backseat of the spacious Town Car, rubbing the lower part of Santana's back. The rest of the car ride was silent until the driver pulled in front of a gray-bricked building on a relatively subdued side street off Bleeker in the West Village. Brittany reached over the front seat to tip the driver before pushing out of the car behind Santana.

The girls stepped up the four steps to the stoop of their apartment building, entering a code to unlock the front door then proceeding up six flights of stairs.

"Ugh," Santana complained as she reached the hallway in front of their apartment door, rubbing at the uncomfortable sensation in her pelvic area.

"Wait until you have to do those nine months pregnant," Brittany joked with a wink, pulling out her house key to unlock the door.

"I wish," she replied with a mope to her voice.

Brittany shut and locked both deadbolts on the inside of their door before setting down her bags and pulling Santana toward her, "Come here…hug me."

Santana put both arms around Brittany's waist, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry…I'm know I'm being difficult."

Brittany laughed and hugged her back, "Oh sweetie, you are always difficult."

Santana gave her wife a playful frown, knowing Brittany was correct yet dismissing the notion, and asked, "Ok, what do you want for dinner?"

"No…you go lie down on the couch and put your feet up." Brittany turned the Latina around and patted her firmly on her backside. "Doctor's orders."

Santana huffed but walked away as instructed, stepping first toward their bedroom to change clothes. To say her and Brittany's bedroom was tiny would be an understatement. It would also incorrectly imply that it was an actual room rather than a double-sized bed wedged into a corner of their one-room apartment, barricaded only by a large, decorative drape. The lightweight throw, accented by colorful beadwork around its edges added the bohemian vibe Brittany loved so much, hung on a long white packing string that the girls secured on one wall to the one across from it.

The brunette kicked off her sneakers and opened the top drawer on an ornate chest-of-drawers near the foot of the bed that not only served as most of the storage for their clothing but also as the stand for their television. They had strategically placed the chest so they could watch TV from the bed or, after a quick turn of the set on top of the chest, they could view it from the living area as well.

Santana pulled out of the drawer a clean pair of cotton pants and a t-shirt then she quietly changed while Brittany busied herself along the far wall in a kitchenette with a small stove.

Even when the Latina moved inside their small bathroom that barely fit two people at once, she could hear the clanking of pans on the metal stove top as Brittany cooked.

As she exited, Santana saw Brittany slide a grilled cheese sandwich onto a plate, looking up to ask her, "Milk or juice?"

"Milk, I guess," Santana answered, walking over to the couch, leaning over it to raise their one window in order to let some of the summer heat escape from inside the small space.

Brittany poured a cup of white liquid, looking up to see Santana's efforts with pushing up on the window that always got stuck halfway up.

"Here, hon…let me get that…," Brittany walked over to her and set down the plate and cup on their small wooden coffee table, "…sit down, okay?"

Santana stretched out on the lumpy brown couch, feeling Brittany's body lean over her to push the window the rest of the way.

"There you go," the blonde handed her the sandwich, placing a kiss sweetly on her lips, pushing the coffee table a bit closer toward Santana so she could easily reach her cup.

"Thank you," Santana grabbed at Brittany's long arm before she stepped away, pulling her back down for another kiss.

The two of them had known each other their entire lives and dated since they were seventeen, but Brittany nevertheless marveled sometimes at how truly beautiful Santana was with her long, nearly-black hair and her dark, mysterious eyes. If eleven years and many life struggles had passed since they first declared themselves a couple, it certainly didn't show it on Santana's still-youthful face.

Brittany looked at a nearby clock to see that it was 7:16 pm. "Do you need anything else before I go?"

"You're working tonight?" Santana tried to clarify, unintentionally frowning.

"Yeah, remember? Frap needed someone to tend bar tonight."

"You don't work there anymore, Britt."

"I know hon…but tips are always good on the weekends there," the tall dancer said cautiously, knowing Santana wanted her to make a final break away from waiting tables and focus on her craft, "Making money is a good way to spend an evening, right?"

Brittany changed into her uniform as they spoke, raising her voice slightly when she went into the bathroom, brushing and pulling her long blonde hair up into a neat ponytail.

"So is cuddling on the couch and watching a movie," Santana said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Brittany finished buttoning the last button on her red, cotton shirt then tucked it neatly into her tight, black shorts. She grabbed her black apron off the coat rack nailed to the wall then walked back over to the couch, sitting on its arm behind Santana.

"Your sandwich good?" she asked the brunette, hoping the topic of her tending bar that evening had faded.

"Yes…you still make awesome grilled cheese," Santana answered.

"How do you feel?" the blonde ran her hand gently down the back of Santana long, soft locks.

The Latina shrugged. "I'm fine, I guess."

Brittany took a deep breath, hearing a harsh edge to Santana voice. "I won't go if you need me to stay," Brittany assured her lovingly, leaning over to kiss the top of her wife's head.

"Just go…Frap needs you…and we need the money," Santana conceded, her voice softening, admittedly thankful that Brittany's former boss adored the blonde enough to squeeze her in anywhere that would fit with her rehearsal schedule for the new musical she was recently cast.

"I love you, Santana Lopez-Pierce," Brittany pulled the brunette back by her shoulders so she could lean over and kiss her tenderly.

Santana smiled up at her wife of nearly five years. Hearing those words still made her heart flutter. "I love you too, Brittany Lopez-Pierce."

Brittany kissed her once more before she stood, saying over her shoulder as she reached the door, "Don't wait up."

* * *

><p>By the time Brittany walked four blocks north and through the front door of the Caliente Cab Co., it was 7:38 pm on Friday night.<p>

As she walked, she wrapped the long strings of her black apron around her waist several times before tying them in front of her, passing through the front dining room toward the cantina set in the back of the restaurant. She waved to a dark-skinned girl she knew as Renee who was taking an order at a large table of NYU students.

"I said seven thirty!" a gruff voice said to her from behind the bar as Brittany approached it.

"I'm doing you a favor, Frap," Brittany said calmly, lifting a portion of the counter to walk under it and behind the cramped bar.

"Correction, dearie…I'm doing _you_ a favor."

Bennett "Frap" Frappier sounded all business on most days, but the older man who owned Caliente was as whimsical as his long, snow-white ponytail and the red and yellow Taco Taxi he drove around Manhattan. Born into a wealthy southern family, Frap took the money he earned as a riverboat casino financer in Shreveport, Louisiana and made the move to New York City twelve years earlier, buying a failing West Village Mexican restaurant that was housed in an old, converted taxi company building.

Frap favored three things in life: good manners, abstract art, and younger men. The first thing he did when he reached the City was use his life savings to buy a SoHo art gallery and the renovated loft that sat above it. The second thing he did was go with a group of friends to the Caliente Cab Co., a lively restaurant and bar as eccentric as Frap that sat at the intersection of Bleeker and Seventh Street and for years had been popular with the locals and area college students. He instantly fell in love with the vibe of the place, and he did not leave Caliente that night until he negotiated a great deal from the owner who was more than glad to get out of the restaurant-owning business before his bad management skills ran it into the ground.

Frap gutted the place and turned it into the loud, neon world where Brittany worked on and off for the past eight years in between gigs as a chorus dancer in several Broadway musicals.

"Ok, take over then…," Frap told her, setting three short, clear glasses in front of her and handing her a silver drink shaker, "Three margaritas for table ten…two with salt, one without."

He passed behind her to exit from the bar.

Brittany finished mixing and shaking the green liquid that she poured over fresh ice in the glasses, moving them over to the side counter of the bar for pick up.

Renee walked up with a brown tray, saying loudly over the festive Mexican music in the background, "Hey, girl!"

"Hey," Brittany returned the greeting with a smile, practically yelling to be heard, "I thought you quit?"

"I thought you did too?" Renee laughed loudly with her signature bellow, setting two of the drinks onto her tray.

"Yeah well," Brittany shared in her laugh, setting the third one on the tray for her friend.

"I heard you got cast in a new show," Renee inquired with interest, being a dancer herself.

"The revival of Funny Girl," Brittany confirmed, elated that the show needed a last-minute replacement for an injured chorus member, "It opens at the Gershwin in two weeks."

"Good for you!" Renee encouraged, adding, "Isn't your wife's sister the lead in that?"

"Her 'dream role' she says," Brittany answered dramatically with a broad hand gesture in an affectionate imitation of Rachel Berry.

Renee laughed loudly again, having met Rachel when they both attended NYADA.

"Enough chit chat, ladies…," Frap instructed as he walked up to the counter with another drink order, "Get those over to table ten, Renee…_before_ the ice melts…people aren't willing to pay fourteen dollars for water unless Jesus himself has walked across it."

"Yes, Frap," Renee winked good-naturedly at Brittany who smirked in return.

Frap was as hands-on as he was no-nonsense. Anytime Caliente got crazy busy like this night, Frap walked around the two, large dining rooms, getting a jumpstart on drink orders. His motto was always: the quicker with the liquor, the more bills in the till.

"Five frozen, Britt…two lime, two raspberry, one swirl…table eight," he read off the ticket in his hand, stepping back behind the bar to help pour the frozen drinks from the colorful margarita machines.

"Smile, Frap…it's a fantastic Friday!" Brittany playfully reminded him with a gentle nudge to the ribs.

Stopping to affectionately squeeze her shoulders, he grumbled in his lovely effeminate, southern drawl, "Uhuh…and just what makes _this_ Friday any better than the rest?"

Brittany turned to smile ecstatically at him, answering, "Cause I'm pretty sure I got my wife pregnant today."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> I hope you guys enjoyed the inaugural chapter of the sequel to Her Smile Heals Me! This is going to be a wild ride so sit down, buckle up, and keep your hands inside the car at all times. ;)

PLEASE leave a review and let me know what you think. Those who reviewed HSHM know that they influenced the direction of that story so if you have thoughts, let me know them. I appreciate each one of you. Kim


	2. Just Another Alien on Broadway

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 2)**

_Worry,_

_Oh worry, worry, worry, worry_

_Sometimes I swear, it feels like this worry_

_Is my only friend…_

_But I've been saved,_

_By a woman_

_I've been saved,_

_By a woman…_

_She won't let me go,_

_She won't let me go now…_

(Trouble ~ Ray Lamontagne)

**Saturday, June 18, 2022**

**9:18 PM**

Santana Lopez opened the laundry room door in the basement of her apartment complex, holding it with her hip until she could push her black, plastic basket through the doorway. She gripped the molded handles on each side and lifted the basket to start up the steps of the relatively low-lit stairwell, realizing the full basket of folded towels and garments was heavier than she anticipated.

The brunette struggled more than usual as she navigated the multiple levels, making it to the fourth floor of their walk-up building before her stamina evaporated. She set the basket up on the landing then turned to sit on the top step, unable to go further without a moment to rest.

She looked around at the ornate railing of the staircase then up at the antique sconces on the wall that gave the hallway a soft glow. She and Brittany fell in love with this building because of its classic New York City charm. It was the couple's first adult home together once they moved from the university apartments after Santana graduated from NYU. At the time, the trek up six flights to the top level was nothing to the young girls, and they even joked about how lucky they were to snag the "penthouse" view so early in their careers.

Six years later, Santana sat two floors below her front door and looked up at the remaining stairs, ready to give her right eye for an elevator, her regiment of fertility medication month after month finally overpowering her. _Oh god, what if I am pregnant…I will never survive this climb with a baby and a stroller_. She sighed heavily, lost in thought, not hearing the footsteps of someone approaching.

"Are you staging a protest?" a masculine voice asked jovially.

Santana looked down to see her fifth-floor neighbor, Grayson Knox, coming up the stairs. "Funny…," she told him, smiling at the handsome Ad Exec who was dressed in a designer suit and tie, "…but no."

"So…just taking a break? Or is the view better from here?" he winked as he stopped next to her and leaned against the wall.

"I couldn't go further," she laughed at her own show of weakness, adding, "You're overdressed for a Saturday night. Working late?"

"I don't _only_ work, you know," Grayson answered with mock defensiveness.

Santana tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, "Ohhh? Did you have a date tonight?"

Grayson held a frozen expression of vagueness mixed with his trademark dry humor.

"Grayson Knox!" the Latina clapped her hands together in playful excitement, "You did, didn't you? Who is this mystery girl?"

The handsome blonde's expression faded into shared laughter, revealing, "No, there's nobody…I had a presentation for some high-powered clients. It went long."

Santana shook her head in disappointment, "You're hopeless. Handsome, but totally hopeless."

"Now don't act like you aren't just as career driven, Santana Lopez-Pierce…future Tony Award winner," Grayson pushed gently on the brunette's shoulder, "You _and_ that dancing wife of yours."

"Not true!" she protested, "First of all, I still know how to go out and have a good time…something you have apparently lost track of in between all your schmoozing clients and ad presentations."

"Guilty," the thirty-four-year-old held up his hands in lighthearted defeat.

"Second…I am willing to sacrifice career for family," she stated firmly.

Grayson gave her a sympathetic half-smile. After being their neighbor for the past two years, he was well aware of Santana and Brittany's trials and tribulations in getting pregnant.

"I thought you were spectacular in _Charmed Life_…when was the last time I reminded you of that?" he referred to the off-Broadway show Santana quit three months ago to focus her efforts full-time on her quest to become a mother.

"Oh, probably yesterday at some point," she surmised, rolling her brown eyes at him, but she was still internally grateful for his loyal support.

Grayson certainly wasn't the only person who vocalized disappointed with her decision. The show's producers and director said they understood her choice, but they assured her it was a risk that could be detrimental to her career in the long-run.

At least though, Brittany was as steadfastly encouraging as always. The love and devotion in the blonde's blue eyes never wavered when she told Santana that the ultimate choice was hers alone to make.

"I read in the _Times_ that they may be moving it to Broadway sometime in the fall," he pushed, "Is that true?"

"There has been some talk…nothing's decided from what I hear," she answered with a heavy sigh.

Leaving the show in which she had invested nearly three years of her life was certainly not easy, especially since the Latina had been involved from the beginning in creating one of the show's main leads. The role of Lola had been a perfect fit for Santana. She breathed life into her, and all her reviews had been positive.

"Hey…you'll make it to Broadway, Santana," he patted her knee, "No doubt in my mind."

"Yeah," she bit at her lower lip and looked down.

Grayson could sense he was stepping off into a tense topic so he pulled back, asking with a smile, "So want some help with this?"

"Please," Santana smiled, standing up and taking his leather briefcase from him so he could pick up her laundry basket.

The two of them walked up the remaining stairs to the sixth floor where Santana used her house key to unlock the front door, stepping out of the doorway so her friend could set the basket inside.

"Brittany's at rehearsal tonight?" he asked.

"This night…and every other night," Santana said with a hint of exasperation.

"You'll be ok?" he asked protectively.

"Yes, of course," she smiled.

"Well, just stomp on the floor if you need anything," he joked, as he took his briefcase from her and moved toward the stairs.

"I will," Santana chuckled, appreciative of his close proximity, adding with a wave, "Thanks again, Gray."

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday, June 19, 2022<strong>

**10:43am**

Brittany slowed her step to allow Santana to catch up to her on the sidewalk. The couple was running slightly late for brunch as was usual living in a massive borough such as Manhattan. They never went anywhere that they didn't change modes of transportation at least twice and still end up walking several blocks. With Brittany's long legs and determined gait, it always seemed that Santana had to take two steps for her one.

She looked over at her wife and smiled, stopping in front of an ornate glass door and reaching up to open it for the brunette, telling her, "You look beautiful this morning."

Santana smoothed out the skirt of her fuchsia and white flowered-sundress, making sure she was Sunday-best presentable, and smiled up at the taller girl who looked equally lovely in her taupe ensemble, responding, "Thanks, love…you do too."

The girls moved through the front door of the restaurant to its posh waiting area, instantly seeing two older men who were standing near and looking at the colorful fish in a giant saltwater tank.

"Dads!" Santana called out to them to announce her and Brittany's arrival.

Daniel and Trey Berry turned around with huge smiles on their aging faces.

"There they are," Daniel reached out to pull Santana into a tight embrace, kissing her on the forehead, "How are you, sweet girl?"

"Doing just fine," she answered, "You guys look great! How was your flight?"

"Uneventful," Daniel responded cheerfully.

"Sorry we're late," Brittany said as Trey leaned to kiss her on the cheek, giving her a squeeze.

"Oh, don't worry about it at all," Daniel insisted, hugging Brittany, "You two look lovely this morning."

"Thank you," Brittany replied, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Happy Father's Day!" Santana said excitedly as she hugged Trey, "We're so glad you could visit for a few days."

"We needed a little get-away…so why not come here. We get to see all our girls, and we get to shop and see a couple of shows," Daniel said.

"Yes, and eat…so let's sit down," Trey urged with a laugh.

The foursome followed the smartly-dressed hostess to their reserved table in the center of the elegant dining room.

"Will this be satisfactory?" the woman asked flatly.

"Yes, perfect," Daniel assured her.

"And you have one other joining you?" she clarified, pointing to the fifth table set up at the round table.

"Yes, our other daughter should be here shortly," Trey answered.

"Rachel texted that her cab was a few blocks away," Daniel said in a lowered voice toward Santana and Brittany who nodded in reply.

"Brunch menus," the woman stated, handing them each a menu and motioning to the young man behind her, "Your waiter is Edmund."

"Welcome to Maguire's," Edmund told them, "Is this your first time dining with us?"

"No," Daniel said jovially, "This is one of our favorites."

"Wonderful," the seasoned waiter responded, "I see you're waiting for someone to join you so shall I start you with coffee? Bloody Mary perhaps?"

"Yes, coffee sounds great," Daniel answered, pointing toward his spouse, "We'll both have some."

Edmund looked toward Brittany, "Miss?"

"Coffee please," the blonde replied.

Santana paused before telling him, "Just water for me." She made eye-contact with Brittany and smiled, mouthing the words, "Just in case."

Brittany smiled widely at their potential secret.

"I'll be right back then," Edmund assured them.

"I hope you girls are hungry. Everything here is delicious," Trey told them after the waiter walked away, having eaten at the restaurant on several visits to Manhattan.

"Yes, the Eggs Benedict with the crab cakes is my personal favorite," Daniel added.

"Oh yes, dear…their hollandaise sauce is delectable, isn't it?" Trey informed them.

Brittany and Santana looked down the short list of high-priced brunch entrees then looked at each other and swallowed hard.

Daniel gave them a side-glance, noting the looks on their attractive faces, telling them nonchalantly, "This is our treat so order whatever looks good."

"Dad, no…it's Father's Day…we want to treat you guys," Santana tried to cover her concern over the prices.

"That's right! It is Father's Day…so you have to let us do whatever we want," Daniel reached over and put his hand over Santana's hand as she held the fancy menu, "And our favorite thing to do is spoil our girls."

Santana looked across the table at Trey who winked at her then she felt Brittany's hand lovingly pat her knee under the table.

"I'm here…finally!" a voice squealed across the half-full dining room, causing everybody at the table to turn in the direction of the petite brunette who was walking toward them with a broad smile and outstretched-hands in full dramatic flair.

Rachel Berry was dressed in a stylish summer dress with a chunky red necklace that perfectly-accented the black and white geometric pattern. She went straight to where Trey was seated, hugging him from behind and kissing his chiseled jawline, then straightened to hug Daniel who stood up from his chair, kissing him sweetly.

"It's so good to see you, pumpkin," Trey stated, reaching up to squeeze her hand.

"Happy Father's Day to the two best dads on the planet," she stated enthusiastically.

"Rachel…you look positively breathtaking," Daniel told her, sitting back in his seat and returning his cloth napkin to his lap.

"Thank you, Daddy," Rachel replied, circling around the table to quickly greet Santana then Brittany on the cheek with a warm kiss before taking the remaining seat between the blonde and Trey.

"Everybody looks fantastic…all dressed up for brunch," Rachel said dynamically, "And I have wonderful news to share with you. Where's our waiter…we need something to toast with."

Daniel turned and motioned for Edmund who was already walking toward their table with the service of coffee.

"Welcome," the waiter said to Rachel, "What can we get you to drink, Miss?"

"You can bring each of us one of your famous frozen Bellinis so we can celebrate," she instructed him.

"Absolutely, Miss…I'll bring those right away," he smiled then walked away.

"What are we celebrating, Rachel?" Brittany asked, always amused at Rachel's flamboyance which had grown over the past few years with her success in theatre.

"My favorite topic…me!" she smiled at everyone, starting, "Okay, so guess who will be the featured article in Playbill for August?"

"Hmmm? You?" Santana smirked playfully.

"Yes!" Rachel beamed as though the answer weren't obvious, "They are doing a full write-up of Funny Girl…even though the show's opening has been pushed back three more weeks. That's huge."

"That is spectacular, sweetheart!" her fathers both applauded her which made the tiny diva glow innocently as if she were still four-years-old and taking her first recital bow.

Edmund appeared with a tray full of champagne flutes filled with a peach-colored frozen concoction, setting one in front of each of them.

Daniel held his up and led them in a proud toast, "Congratulations, Rachel…and Brittany…we are giddy with anticipation for the show's premiere."

Everyone smiled and congratulated Rachel for her first starring role, taking a sip of their alcoholic beverage. Santana raised her glass to toast the smaller brunette then set it back down on the table discreetly without drinking from it…or so she thought.

Rachel Berry was often a self-indulged prima donna, but she loved dearly the Latina whom she called her sister. She was also observant, looking across the table at Santana, seeing her push away her still-full Bellini before pulling her water glass toward her.

"Are you not drinking today, Santana?" Rachel asked her.

"Not today," Santana replied casually, looking back toward her fathers.

"Cream for your coffee then," Rachel offered to pass the silver cream server, knowing exactly how Santana took her much-beloved coffee.

Santana paused then stated, "I'm drinking water today."

Rachel nodded with a furrowed brow, "It is a hot day…it's good to stay hydrated."

"Did you hear that _Giselle _is opening at Lincoln Center next month?" Brittany quickly threw out the topic of the famous ballet to distract from Rachel's curious tone.

"I have always loved that one," Daniel reflected, "Trey, do you remember the first time we saw it. D.C. was it?"

"It was, yes…at the Kennedy Center…1994, I believe," Trey added.

"It was '94, you're right, because it was shortly before Rachel was born," Daniel confirmed.

"Speaking of being born…," Rachel interrupted, refusing to let go, "Is there any particular announcement you want to make today, Santana?"

Santana shifted awkwardly in her plush chair, feeling all eyes suddenly on her. "No," she shook her head and gave Rachel a tight-lipped smile.

"Oh come on, San. Tell us…," the smaller brunette pushed more gently, "Did you guys have another IUI?"

Brittany looked to her right to see her wife looking back at her with an emotionless expression.

"Brittany?" Rachel prodded.

Brittany took a sip of her coffee.

"We don't know anything yet," Santana finally relented.

"Yet?" Daniel asked, hopeful.

"So you might be?" Rachel clarified with clear excitement.

"The probability is the same as it has been in the past," Santana stated sadly, knowing her family understood her hesitation to be overly optimistic.

"Sooo…you _might_ be," Rachel offered with a sweet smile.

"You guys will know when we know," Santana specified with a less tense expression.

"You know, Daniel…we are two very lucky fathers on this wonderful day," Trey raised his glass in a salute to his daughters.

Daniel raised his as well, agreeing, "We certainly are!"

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday, June 22, 2022<strong>

**1:12am**

Brittany eased open her front door, shutting it closed behind her and locking both deadbolts as quietly as she could before setting down her dance bags on the floor.

She tip-toed over to the couch where Santana had fallen asleep watching television and pulled a light-weight throw off the back of it to cover her sleeping wife.

The blonde moved about the tiny apartment, removing her sneakers and sweaty-smelling rehearsal clothes, changing into cotton shorts and a freshly-washed t-shirt. She went into the bathroom, grimacing slightly when the door creaked as she shut it, where she freshen up by washing her face and pulling her long hair into a tight ponytail on top of her head.

Brittany then moved into the corner of the room that was their kitchen, flipping on the light over the sink in order to pour a bowl of cereal, topping it off with milk from their small fridge. She took a seat at a small round table that sufficed as their entire dining room, pulling up one leg against her chest as she sat and smiling to herself as she tilted the red box to look down at the friendly leprechaun on its front. She may have turned twenty-eight on her last birthday, but Lucky Charms was still her personal favorite.

In between bites, she heard Santana stir and sit up, asking, "What time is it?"

Brittany brightened the screen on her phone and answered, "One thirty."

"Did rehearsal go better tonight?" Santana inquired as she walked behind Brittany, stopping long enough to kiss the top of the blonde's head, moving toward the sink to run some water in her glass.

"Somewhat," Brittany replied, still chewing, "I mean, it seemed like Alton screamed a little less tonight."

"Maybe he's given up hope?" Santana teased, taking a long drink of water.

"I would too if I were piloting _The Hindenburg_," Brittany referred in jest to her over-the-top director, Alton Weiss, whose melodramatic personality made Rachel Berry seem calm in comparison.

Santana took one last sip and set her glass in the sink, joking, "Don't mention that in front of him or Gail…or that will be their next project."

Brittany laughed out loud. The only producer insane enough to try and stage _Hindenburg: The Musical_ would be Gail Thornton, and the only director arrogant enough to think he could actually pull it off would be Alton. "Yeah, he would probably want live flames each night…and he would have us dancing out of the fiery ruins as it crashed to the stage below."

Santana shared in Brittany's humorous vision, laughing heartily as she moved back over to where she sat, hugging her tightly from behind. "Hang in there, babe. They're fortunate to have someone with your talent."

The blonde kissed Santana on the side of her mouth as the Latina leaned over her, "Thanks, hon."

"Alright, I'm going to the bathroom then I'm getting in bed," Santana informed her wife, closing the bathroom door.

"I'm nearly done with the light," Brittany said loudly enough for her to hear.

Brittany finished her cereal and leisurely read some of the day's headlines on the Huffington Post via her cell phone. She could hear the toilet flush then the water running inside the small bathroom. After several minutes passed, the tall dancer stood and walked over to the sink, running water in her dirty bowl, washing it, and setting it in the drain board.

She picked up Santana's water glass and ran some cold water in it, taking a long drink.

"Um…Britt?"

Brittany turned mid-sip to see Santana walking up nervously behind her. "What?" she asked the brunette.

"Okay…um…so you know how this Friday is fourteen days since the insemination, right?" Santana asked.

Brittany nodded, lowering the glass.

"Well…I've been just sort of randomly taking these pregnancy tests…just for the hell of it," Santana explained, holding up a white and blue plastic stick.

Brittany could see that her wife's hands were trembling, but she wasn't quite sure what she was trying to tell her. "Okay."

Santana stepped closer toward Brittany. "I just took one…there's supposed to be a second line if it's positive."

The blonde reached to steady Santana's hand, tilting the stick toward the brighter section of the illuminated kitchen. She examined it then pulled it closer. Puzzled, she stated, "I think I see a second line."

"Me too."

Brittany looked up, and her eyes locked with Santana's eyes. She then pulled the Latina with her to the brighter light of the bathroom, both of them crowded around its sink. Inspecting it again, she said more boldly, "There's a second line."

Neither of them said anything as time seemed to screech to a halt.

"Do another one," Brittany suggested with urgency in her voice.

"It was my last one," Santana frowned.

Brittany brushed past Santana to leave the bathroom, her heart racing, and she walked over to where she last left her sandals.

"Where are you going?" Santana followed her, confused.

"CVS…we need more," Brittany answered as though that rationale was completely plausible, squatting near the door to dig out her wallet from her messenger bag.

Santana stepped over to their bedroom, sliding her feet into her shoes too and grabbing her keys from the kitchen table, "Let's go."

The two of them traveled quickly down six flights of stairs on adrenaline alone then practically raced around the corner and up the main street to the 24-hour pharmacy. This time, Brittany had to stretch her steps just to keep up with the shorter brunette.

"Honey…slow down…you're going to cause one of us to have a heart attack," Brittany said to her wife as they slowed to wait for the automatic door of the store to open.

"This was your idea," Santana reminded her, making her way quickly to the aisle with the pregnancy tests.

The two stopped and stared at all the choices, both brand-names and generics.

"Which one this time?" Santana asked, looking up at Brittany.

The blonde grabbed one of each kind and said, "I hope you still have to pee."

After they paid for all five boxes and a large bottle of water, the girls ran to the back corner of the pharmacy where the restroom was located.

"Hurry," Santana said to Brittany in a frantic whisper, uncapping the plastic bottle.

Brittany unboxed and ripped open several of the various sticks while Santana chugged half the bottle of water in nearly one gulp.

"Britt…I can't pee _that_ much," Santana said as she looked down at all the opened testing sticks.

"Well, just…you know…stick them all under there…at the same time maybe," Brittany suggested with a shrug, lost in unfamiliar territory.

Santana couldn't help but laugh. "What the hell are we doing here?" she asked, looking around the relatively-clean, brightly-lit public restroom.

Brittany laughed too at the mounting absurdity, tossing some of the foil wrappers in the nearby trashcan.

"Okay, take your pick then," Brittany held out five sticks like a deck of cards from which Santana could choose.

Santana picked a traditional one and a digital one and went inside one of the stalls.

Brittany waited as patiently as possible, reading the back of the e.p.t. box, for Santana to use the restroom and step back out to wash her hands, placing the plastic sticks on a paper towel. The girls stood there for two of the longest minutes of their lives just staring at each other with nervousness pulsing through their veins.

The blonde looked at the clock on her phone. 2:09 am. She smiled at the brunette across from her then pointed to the pregnancy tests.

"I can't look," Santana bit at her lower lip, "You look first."

Brittany took in a deep breath of air and slowly blew it out then leaned over the counter, picking up the digital test.

"Well…?" Santana prompted when the blonde didn't immediately react.

"A minus is probably a bad sign, huh?"

"A minus?" Santana repeated with extreme disappointment, feeling instantly gutted, "Yeah."

Brittany turned and held it up for her wife to see, "So good thing it's a blue plus sign!"

"What?" Santana shrieked which echoed loudly in the small restroom, grabbing Brittany's hand to see the indicator screen.

"You're pregnant, honey!" Brittany announced animatedly, pulling the Latina into a hug.

Santana reached for the other test, seeing a positive reading on it as well, confirming with awe, "Two lines."

Brittany laughed, "Two lines…twice! _And_ a plus sign."

Santana could only stand there, stunned. She didn't necessarily feel any different at the moment, but three tests were telling her that she had life growing inside her. She looked up at the face of her wife, seeing fresh tears in her bright blue eyes, and she knew that it must be true. She was pregnant. _Finally_.

"Britt…," Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's waist and fell into her for support, crying uncontrollably.

"Oh my god…I can't believe this, honey…," Brittany caressed the curve of Santana's back as she felt the brunette's shoulders shake with emotion.

Santana looked up, her voice cracking, "We're going to have a baby, Britt."

"I love you so very _very_much," Brittany kissed her firmly, her own emotions equally out of control with a mixture of extreme relief and overwhelming joy, declaring aloud, "We are actually going to have a baby!"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I am elated that so many of y'all have taken to this new story so quickly. I hope you enjoyed this update. Thank you to each of you who took a moment to leave a review. I read them all!

Oh and to prove that statement: a HUGE thanks to "Guest" for helping me with my fertility acronym faux pas. My ex-partner (who carried our little ones) literally slapped me in the back of the head when I told her I mixed them up. Oops. It is IUI (not IVF) which I went back and fixed.

Also, thank you for the comments from you theatre folks. I know I may invoke creative license occasionally and move around a few things in the duration of this fic, but I promise to try hard to stick as closely as possible to true theatre facts and customs. Be polite but keep me honest. :) Kim


	3. Can't See Until It Gets Too Late

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 3)**

_Felt the wind's direction beginning to change,_

_Clouds so softly full of rain._

_The summer fell and winter sprang._

_Now it's all a feeling I can't get back again._

_Throw your arms around my neck,_

_I won't be soon to forget._

_Throw your arms around my neck,_

_I won't be soon to forget._

_Cloudy thoughts against a clear blue sky._

_When the feeling came, I felt like getting high,_

_With no sense to try to find my peace of mind_

_Cause maybe I was born to win, dissatisfied…._

(Untitled (Love Song) ~ Counting Crows)

**Wednesday, June 29, 2022**

**12:17 pm**

Brittany Pierce sat on the floor against the far wall of the rehearsal studio, feeling her stomach growl and rubbing casually at her sore calf muscles, trying to keep them loose. The room which a moment ago had been a buzz of activity with dancers flitting across the floor to a lively musical number was suddenly silent.

The dancers were currently scattered in various places across the high-glossed, wooden floor, resting in a tense hush. All eyes were now on two men and a woman who were in deep discussion on the opposite side of the room with their collective heads bobbing as they argued and pointed to each other then back at the assembled cast in a dramatic fashion.

Austin Royle leaned in close to Brittany and whispered in her right ear, "Which of their heads do you think will explode first?"

The tall blonde bit her bottom lip to hold back a smirk as she adjusted her pink leg warmer.

"Ok, break's over…take your places!" Dominic Serra said assertively.

The dancers stood quickly and took their appropriate starting places as Alton Weiss returned to his seat next to Gail Thornton at a nearby table, instructing, "Dom, make those adjustments then run the number from the top."

"Brittany…swap places with Naomi," the tall choreographer pointed to a more-prominent spot toward the outer front, "Naomi move to the back."

"Dom!" the seasoned dancer protested, not budging.

Out of the corner of her eye, Brittany saw from the row in front of her as Austin turned his head in her direction. She could also sense that the other dancers were looking back and forth from Naomi Rhoads over to her so she looked down at the floor, shifting from one foot to the other in the awkward silence. Her job as a chorus dancer was to blend in, but unexpectedly, Brittany was the unsought center of attention which made her very uncomfortable, especially with being a last minute replacement.

"Naomi…move now!" Alton shouted, "Brittany…up front."

Brittany swallowed hard and walked forward, not pausing to look back when her left arm was brushed forcefully by the feisty, older girl with flawless mocha-colored skin and intense hazel eyes.

The tall blonde took her new spot and lifted her gaze just as the show's producer made eye-contact and smiled with a nod of approval. Brittany took in a calming breath of air, hoping this change meant she was at least doing something right so far.

"Ok, Rachel…let's try you and Grant entering from stage left," Dominic motioned to Rachel Berry who also looked rather pleased with the new placements, "Down the center to here."

The accompanist at the up-right piano played as Rachel took the hand of the attractive male lead and began to sing, moving down the center of the dancers. The group performed one of the show's larger numbers top to bottom, holding their positions as the song ended.

Dominic smiled, pleased with the visual improvement of having Brittany toward the front, then looked over at Alton and Gail.

Alton nodded and stood dismissively, saying over his shoulder as he left the room, "That will work."

"Let's break for lunch," Dominic told them, adding, "Excellent, Rachel. We'll keep that blocking going forward."

The group broke apart immediately, everyone moving quickly to squeeze in as much downtime as they could in their lunch hour.

"Good job, Brittany," the handsome choreographer added as he passed the blonde and the small group surrounding her.

As soon as he left the room, they all turned, giddy with excitement, to congratulate her.

"Oh my god, Brittany!" Eva Navarro, one of the younger dancers in the chorus, exclaimed as she grabbed her by the hands.

Rachel gave her a hug, "This is huge, Britt."

"It's not _that_ huge," Brittany responded uncomfortably with the increased attention.

"Are you kidding?" Austin retorted, smiling broadly, "Anything more than 'you don't suck' from Alton is like a medal of honor."

"Guys, stop…please," Brittany quashed their enthusiasm, casting a side glance toward the three chorus members who were consoling Naomi, "Don't make a big deal about this. Not here."

Rachel collected herself, certainly not wanting to be caught favoring one group against the other, "Brittany's right…let's be respectful."

"Let's get lunch then," Brooke Weber suggested, running a hand through her thick, auburn hair and picking up her nearby bag to lead the group of them toward the rehearsal room door.

As they walked out into the hallway, Brittany instantly saw a very attractive brunette waiting on a padded bench.

"Santana!" she acknowledged with a wide smile.

"Hey," Santana stood and met up with the blonde, giving her a firm kiss on the lips, "I hope it's okay to drop by unannounced."

"Yeah, it's fine…I'm so glad to see you," Brittany beamed, "You guys go ahead."

The rest of them smiled and said hello before continuing down the hallway.

Rachel stayed behind and hugged the Latina, "Have lunch with us…I know a nearby Thai place that's quick."

"Sounds good," Santana smiled and grabbed Brittany's hand.

The three of them went around the corner and ordered Pad Thai at the counter before taking a seat at an empty table.

"So how's everything going with rehearsal?" Santana inquired, making conversation.

Rachel smiled knowingly, "Today was a great day…Britt had something awesome happen."

"Oh? Tell me," the taller of the brunettes turned to look at Brittany.

Brittany blushed slightly, her blue eyes bright with excitement, "I sort of got a promotion, I guess you could say."

"Promotion?" Santana smiled.

"She got bumped to the front of the big group number," Rachel clarified.

"Britt…that's awesome!" Santana encouraged with a hug, taking Brittany's hand in hers, "I'm so proud of you."

"It's a huge compliment!" Rachel released a bit more of her excitement now that she was out of the watchful eyes of her cast.

"It's definitely more exposure, I guess," the blonde relented, "Though…not all of it good."

"Brittany, don't worry about some over-the-hill, bitchy dancer who can't keep up any longer," Rachel stated with insistence.

"Well, I just feel bad…," Brittany grimaced.

"Sweetheart, you are an amazing talent," Santana assured her, squeezing her hand, "You are bound to step on a few toes as you move up the ranks…even if it's unintentional."

"Thanks," she told her wife with a smile, "I appreciate the support from both of you."

"We're your family, Britt…we've got your back," Rachel wink, sitting back in her chair as their food was set on the table in front of them by an older Asian woman.

"Thank you," Brittany told the waitress as she walked away.

"Soooo, Rachel? How are things going with…Richard, is it?" Santana inquired with raised eyebrows, taking a bite of her Pad Thai noodles with her chopsticks. She always enjoyed giving her sister a hard time about the revolving door of men that came and went from the tiny diva's life.

"I broke it off with Richard last month. I thought I told you that?" she answered as she chewed quickly.

"Aww, I really liked Richard," Brittany added with a frown.

"So did Richard," Rachel retorted.

"Ok, so who is it this month?" Santana asked.

"Steve…we've only been on two dates, but he's really cute and has a terrific singing voice…but I don't want to talk about him," Rachel waived off the topic, "I want to know what is going on with you guys."

"Well, I'm going to see Quinn this weekend," Santana offered, "She's got a new season going at the Yale Cabaret."

"I saw one of her shows last summer," Rachel said, taking a drink from her bottle of water.

"She is doing a great job of running that place, especially with her teaching schedule," Brittany added proudly.

"Give her a big hug from me," Rachel told Santana, "Are you taking the commuter rail to New Haven?"

"Yeah, it's cheap and fast."

"Are you sure that's safe in your condition?" Rachel threw out, looking up at Santana for a reaction.

Brittany and Santana looked at her with controlled emotion. The couple had been fielding vague inquiries from the small brunette ever since Father's Day brunch.

"Rachel…," Brittany shook her head.

"I just want to know, ok? I love you both, and I worry…and I just…," she rambled.

Santana looked over at Brittany who smiled.

"You are! Aren't you?" Rachel exclaimed observantly.

Brittany nodded slightly toward her wife, giving her an okay to say something if she wanted.

Santana looked back at Rachel and said simply, "Yes."

"OH MY GOD!" Rachel squealed loudly, jumping up to circle the table and hug her sister tightly, "This is so awesome, you guys! I'm going to be an aunt!"

"Calm down, Rachel," Brittany laughed, looking around at the curious diners staring in their direction.

"But, Rach…we don't want to say anything to anybody…not yet, ok?" Santana advised.

"I understand…my lips are zipped!" Rachel zipped at her mouth, hugging Brittany then returning to her seat across the table from the newly soon-to-be-parents.

"I'm serious, Rachel!" Santana narrowed her eyes, pointing directly at the smaller girl, "We get to tell the dads and Brittany's parents…we get to tell Quinn and Kurt…and everybody else…once I'm past my first trimester, ok?"

"Gotcha," Rachel held up her hands in defeat, "This is your news to tell. I promise."

"Thank you," Santana smiled.

"So how far along are you?"

"Not far…but things look good at this point," Santana explained, "My blood work confirmed I'm pregnant last Friday then they did another one on Monday to confirm my numbers are doubling like they should be…soooo…."

The Latina looked at Brittany who was lovingly watching her as she told Rachel their news.

"Sooo…fingers crossed…in February, we won't just be a couple anymore," Brittany beamed, leaning over and kissing Santana's cheek, "We'll be a family."

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday, June 30, 2022<strong>

**4:23 pm**

"Santana!"

The Latina turned around upon hearing her name called, seeing Quinn Fabray walking down the train station terminal toward her.

The old friends met up with arms extended, pulling each other into a tight embrace, each giving a warm kiss on the other's cheek.

"You look incredible, Quinn," Santana smiled broadly at the gorgeous blonde. Quinn was dressed in white Capri pants with a colorful, summer top that had a hint of green in it, picking up the beautiful green in the Yale professor's sparkling eyes.

"You, my friend…are glowing!" Quinn told her, knowing nothing of Santana's current status but noting the brunette's lavender sundress, "I love that color on you! Let me take one of these bags."

"Thank you for picking me up," she told her, handing her handbag to Quinn who draped it over her shoulder.

"Not a problem! There's no sense in you taking a cab," the blonde told her, adding, "You can come with me over to the Cabaret so we can get some coffee and catch up before the cast arrives."

"Sounds good," Santana agreed, pulling her suitcase behind her and linking her arm with Quinn's as they walked to the car, telling her, "You're letting your hair grow out…it looks great!"

After the girls dropped off Santana's stuff at Quinn's loft near the Yale campus, Quinn drove them over to the little basement theatre that was widely-known for its bistro that served things like humus and pita chips and cheese platters with wine all while the patrons watched quirky, student-driven one act plays.

The Yale Cabaret was a unique petri dish for young talent associated with the drama program at Yale University where Quinn attended as an undergraduate then as a graduate student and where she now taught. The twenty-eight-year old was initially saddle with a daunting task of reviving the Cabaret to its glory days after the previous two directors managed to lose the organic nature of the theatre through unclear visions and poor student relations.

Quinn Fabray, though, had proven to be a wonderful student mentor over the past eighteen months, bringing in visionary scripts and fresh talent. The attractive blonde professor was now the talk of New Haven and on the fast-track to success within Yale's highly-regarded drama department.

"Here you go, Quinn," a young brunette set a coffee cup in front of her and in front of Santana, smiling respectfully, "And decaf for you. I brewed it just now."

"Oh, thank you," Santana returned the smile.

"Decaf? Unusual choice for you," Quinn observed as she put two Equals in her cup and a small amount of cream, pushing it toward the Latina, "Do you still like lots of cream?"

"Of course. I like my coffee blonde…like my women," Santana joked with a wink, trying to push quickly past Quinn's question.

Quinn laughed at her best friend, "I guess then that I still like brunettes."

"How is Alison?" Santana asked as she stirred her coffee and set the spoon down to take a sip.

"Gone," Quinn laughed again.

"You are hopeless, you know?"

"Yeah well…," Quinn sipped on her coffee.

"Between you and Rachel, I can't keep up with who is dating who each month."

Quinn set her white mug down on the wooden table, fidgeting with the empty Equal packet.

"You still think about Cate, don't you?" Santana prodded.

Quinn looked back up at Santana, saying sadly, "Every single day lately."

Santana bit at her lip and frowned, seeing the pain in her best friend's still-youthful face, "Call her, Quinn."

The blonde shook her head and gave a half-smile, "Don't you think I've tried? Her cell number changed two years ago."

"I _still_ don't understand why you guys broke up."

"Long distance relationships are never easy, San…it's complicated," Quinn said, her gaze drifting off to the side as a flood of memories washed over her.

"Right after she graduated, Cate told me she was going to move here," Santana recalled.

"She wanted to…but she also had other opportunities…in other places."

"_You _were her main concern though."

"Right…but I shouldn't have been. She needed to make the best choice for her own future," Quinn felt tears forming in her eyes so she sniffed and took a steadying breath, composing herself quickly, "It's all for the best. I made the right decision."

"And you still regret it…I see it in your face every time her name comes up in conversation," the brunette grimaced.

"I've dated several lovely people over the last six years," Quinn insisted with a firm nod of her head, forcing a big smile, "Surely, someone at some point will work out, right?"

"It doesn't matter how many other girls you date, Q...," Santana reached across the table and put her hand over Quinn's hand, "If you love someone else then you'll never be satisfied."

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, July 4, 2022<strong>

**9:54 pm**

Brittany made her way up to the sixth floor of her apartment building, her tired muscles straining as she approached the last level in front of door #6C.

The blonde used her key to unlock both the deadbolt and the doorknob, letting herself inside. She was met instantly with a mixture of aromas in the air and a soft glow of candle light throughout the small space.

She locked both deadbolts and set down her bags, turning to find a very tantalizing sight.

"Well hello," Brittany said with a sultry smirk, taking a few steps toward the small dining room table set near the kitchen.

"Hello," Santana replied, her raspy voice practically purring.

"Is this why you told me to text you as soon as I got off the subway?" Brittany asked her wife who was sitting in the chair across from her with her feet up in the opposite chair, crossed at the ankles.

"Uhuh," Santana smiled with raised eyebrows.

"Lasagna? Wine?" Brittany walked around the table, leaning over to kiss Santana, "Flowers and candles? You sure went to a lot of trouble, honey."

"Well…it _is_ our anniversary today," the brunette responded teasingly, putting her arms around Brittany's waist and pulling her down into her lap, "Our fifth anniversary."

"Uhuh," Brittany leaned in again for a longer kiss, "So is that why you're naked?"

Santana pushed her hands up under Brittany's cotton shirt, running her fingernails across the smooth skin of her back, "I just wanted it to be memorable."

The blonde laughed, partly from the slight tickle of Santana's touch but mostly from her amusement at her wife's sexy playfulness, "Oh, _this_ is certainly memorable."

"Good," Santana pulled Brittany into another passionate kiss, their tongues moving around each other's as they deepened their reconnection.

Brittany pulled back for air, "I've missed this."

"I've missed _you_," Santana confessed, trying not to show too much disappointment with being left home alone night after night recently.

"I know, honey…I'm sorry," Brittany grimaced, pulling Santana's head to her chest, squeezing her tightly, "It'll smooth out once the show opens in a couple of weeks."

"I know," Santana looked back up at her wife, telling her sincerely, "I'm just so very proud of you, babe. I knew you would make it big one day with your dancing."

"Thank you," Brittany ran her hand down Santana's jawline, reassuring her, "You will too."

"All in good time, right?"

Brittany kissed her again, "I love you."

"I love you," Santana returned, asking, "I know you've got to be hungry."

"No, I have something else in mind first," Brittany stood and walked over to a nearby radio, turning it on, then walked back over to Santana and pulled her from her chair, "Dance with me."

Santana smiled as she wrapped her arms around her wife's broad shoulders, feeling Brittany's hands at the small of her back. They swayed slowly to the soft tunes that played on a local station they always enjoyed when they were cleaning around the apartment.

"I know we said we weren't going to buy presents this year and just save our money…," Santana started.

"I have everything I need and want right here," Brittany insisted, placing her hand on Santana's pelvic area.

"Yes, but the least I could do was cook your favorite meal for you…though the lasagna will get cold if we keep this up too long," Santana cautioned, wanting Brittany to have nourishment for how hard she'd been working lately.

"That's why we have a microwave," Brittany assured her with a soft kiss on her lips.

As the couple continued to dance slowly, the brunette laid her head against Brittany's chest, hearing her heart beating a bit faster than normal. That gave Santana an overwhelming feeling of joy and slight empowerment to know that, after being intimate with Brittany for over thirteen years, she could still make the blonde's heart race.

"I feel like I'm a bit underdressed," Santana laughed, feeling like her sexy gesture of greeting her wife without clothes was now backfiring on her.

"I think I'm overdressed," Brittany suggested.

Santana smirked, wasting no time before lifting Brittany's shirt over her head and tossing it to the side then undoing the clasps on the back of Brittany's sports bra.

Brittany slipped her arms out and let the bra fall to the ground, leaning in for another long kiss, tangling her hands among Santana's dark locks of hair. The dancer loved touching her wife's hair, because it was so thick and it was always so soft and smelled like citrus.

"How are you feeling?" Brittany whispered near Santana's ear, knowing the Latina had started feeling more tired since she returned from New Haven, visiting Quinn.

"I took a nap earlier," Santana smiled, offsetting any concern.

"Then come with me," Brittany said in a very seductive voice, putting her arm around Santana's waist and lifting the slender girl up into her strong arms.

"What are you doing," Santana laughed at the sudden loss of balance, throwing her head back.

"I'm carrying my wife to bed…," Brittany shared in the humor, holding Santana tightly and easily walking her over to their bed, telling her as she set her on the mattress, "…where I'm going to make love to her tonight."

"You are as crazy as ever," the Latina smiled widely.

"Crazy in love," Brittany said boldly as she kicked her sneakers off in the corner and pulled her shorts and underwear off, crawling on the bed and into Santana's arms, kissing her tenderly.

"Britt?"

"Huh?"

"I want you to know that I will always love you," Santana told her. Her heart had ached so much for Quinn when she saw the amount of pain her best friend still suffered after breaking it off with Cate. Cate had been Quinn's only true love, and the older girl had been totally devoted to Quinn. Santana couldn't fathom ever breaking up with Brittany, no matter how difficult circumstances got for them. The brunette knew that somehow, someway they would always find a solution that kept them together.

"I will never leave you…either of you…_ever_," Brittany said, rubbing her hand gently across Santana's lower abdomen, thinking how flat it was currently and looking forward to watching it grow as their baby grew inside her.

Santana cupped her hand around the back of Brittany's neck and pulled her down to meet her kiss, "We are very lucky to have you then."

The girls rolled around for several minutes, kissing and caressing each other and slowly building their passion.

The brunette broke away for a moment, "Oh wow, it is getting quite hot in here."

"Do you want me to open the window?"

"Please," Santana answered since they didn't have air conditioning in their apartment.

Her body was starting to adjust in new ways to all the hormones that were pumping through it recently, and she could already tell that the heat of the summer in New York City was going to be rough.

Brittany got out of bed and went over to lift up the window, instantly feeling some of the interior heat escape out through the screen, telling Santana, "There's a nice breeze out there tonight."

"Would you grab a glass of water too, love?" Santana called out from the bed.

Brittany stepped over to the table and picked up a glass sitting by one of the plates, walking back to the bed with it and handing it to her wife, "The ice is starting to melt, but it's still cold."

Santana took a big drink and handed it back to Brittany, "Thank you so much. I'm sorry…I just got really hot all of a sudden."

"I noticed," the blonde gave her a sexy smirk, pausing to remove an ice cube before setting the glass next to the lamp on the side table. She leaned back over Santana's body, running the ice down the center of her chest, "Does that help?"

The Latina drew in a shaky breath before responding, her exterior heat suddenly moving to very deep inside her, "Depends on what result you were going for."

"Ohhh?" Brittany smiled wider, her intent definitely adjusting inside her head. She held the quickly melting cube over Santana's left nipple, letting it drip a large drop right on top of it.

"Oh…wow," she said, unintentionally arching into Brittany's body.

Brittany lowered the ice cube, her fingertips feeling slightly numb from the cold, and ran it across the skin of Santana's left breast, circling her areola before holding it directly on top of the brunette's now hardened nipple.

Santana's reaction increased that time, pleasing Brittany, so the blonde repeated it with Santana's other breast until the cube was completely melted.

Brittany ran her cold fingertips down her wife's ribcage and over her taut stomach muscles while whispering in her ear, "Better?"

"Oh god…yes," Santana said, her breathing now very heavy.

"Good," Brittany smiled, moving further down Santana's torso, stopping to suck on her nipples.

Santana's brain shot flashes of white behind her eyes with the intensity of the feeling in her breasts. Anytime Brittany sucked on her nipples, Santana always found it extremely pleasurable, but this time, the feeling was so intense that she thought she might have an immediate orgasm. Just at the moment her internal heat was about to push her over the edge though, Brittany moved even further down, spreading Santana's legs to lie between them.

Brittany pulled a pillow around and gently lifted Santana's hips to slide it under her, giving the blonde a better angle.

She ran her hands tenderly down the outer part of her wife's thighs then up under her backside, pulling Santana close to her. Brittany used her long fingers to part Santana's folds, finding her already very wet.

She blew her hot breath on Santana's labia, lowering her head to lick her up and down several times, always coming back to circle her tongue around the brunette's pulsing clit.

As Brittany expertly teased at Santana's inner flame, the Latina continued to enjoy the feeling in her breasts by rubbing and tweaking at her own nipples, moaning loudly and rotating her hips under Brittany's oral manipulations.

The blonde loved hearing Santana moan uninhibited like she was at the moment. So often, Brittany observed the part of Santana who needed to be in control…who planned things out and made lists to organize her lists, needing events to go a certain way.

Though, whenever Brittany could bring out this part of Santana…this carefree side, this unreserved, visceral side of the fiery Latina she grew up adoring, Brittany was at her happiest.

She continued to focus attention on Santana's clit, feeling it throb against her tongue, circling it, flicking it, sucking on it, until she knew her wife needed more.

Brittany pushed her long tongue inside her core, hearing Santana gasp loudly as she pulled the brunette by her hips for added depth inside her.

"Oh Britt…oh god…yes," Santana choked out between giant gulps of air, "I'm so close."

Brittany continued to probe her tongue as deep as she could, coming back again and again to suck on Santana's enlarged clit until she felt her wife's hands at the back of her neck, her trigger cue to keep sucking and not stop.

It wasn't but a few short seconds then Brittany heard Santana scream out the blonde's name and go stiff beneath her, riding out the intensity of her orgasm.

Once Santana stilled, Brittany moved back up the length of her body, pulling the pillow with her so her wife could lie comfortably against the mattress again. Brittany kissed Santana softly along her shoulder blades and up the warmth of her neck, moving the brunette's dark hair that was sticking to her overheated skin.

"Happy anniversary, honey," Brittany told her, kissing Santana's lips.

"Happy anniversary, love," Santana replied, her pulse starting to return to normal, adding with a satisfied grin, "After tonight, I'm not ever wearing clothes when you come home."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I know many of you are fans of Cate…and shippers of Quinn with Cate. Just remember that this is going to be a long story. LOTS can and will happen. Cate will be part of this story. Just sit back and trust me as we make our way through this journey together.


	4. Find Something That's Enough To Keep You

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 4)**

_...And that's alright, I found a martyr in my bed tonight._

_She stops my bones from wondering just who I am,_

_Who I am, who I am_

_Oh, who am I? mmm…mmm…_

_Some nights, I wish that this all would end,_

_Cause I could use some friends for a change._

_And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again._

_Some nights, I always win (I always win)..._

_But I still wake up, I still see your ghost._

_Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for…ohhh_

_What do I stand for? What do I stand for?_

_Most nights, I don't know…_

_So this is it? I sold my soul for this?_

_Washed my hands of that for this?_

_I miss my mom and dad for this?_

_No. When I see stars, when I see stars, that's all they are._

_When I hear songs, they sound like this one, _

_So come on._

_Oh, come on. Oh, come on..._

_That is it, guys, that is all – _

_five minutes in and I'm bored again._

_Ten years of this, I'm not sure if anybody understands._

_This one is not for the folks at home, _

_I'm sorry to leave, Mom, I had to go._

_Who the fuck wants to die alone_

_All dried up in the desert sun?_

_My heart is breaking for my sister _

_and the con that she called "love",_

_Then I look into my nephew's eyes…_

_Man, you wouldn't believe,_

_The most amazing things_

_that can come from…_

_Some terrible lies..._

(Some Nights ~ fun.)

**Thursday, July 14, 2022**

**4:02 pm**

Quinn Fabray was sitting at her standard-issued, university-staff desk on Thursday afternoon, recording test grades into the Yale online grade book, when she heard a knock on her office door.

She looked up and said loudly enough to be heard, "Come in."

"Dr. Fabray?" a young sandy-blonde poked in her head and smiled, "Am I interrupting?"

"Chloe, hi…," Quinn returned the smile, motioning toward the two empty chairs across from her desk, "It's fine…have a seat. And remember, outside the classroom, it's Quinn, ok?"

Chloe Sullivan smiled widely as she stepped inside the cozy office where Quinn sat, thumbing through papers askew in front of her. Most everything in the small space was boring brown wood except for shelves of colorful books that lined the wall opposite the desk and the purple and white Orchid plant that sat on top of an adjacent metal file cabinet.

"I wanted to talk over the idea I had for my one act play assignment. Here's an outline of my research," the twenty-four-year-old graduate student told Quinn, pushing several white sheets toward her, "I was hoping you could look at it and give me some feedback before I start writing it out."

"Wow, Chloe…you've put a lot of effort into this project," Quinn commented, her eyes scanning the typed words on the pages, "I'm impressed."

The younger girl smiled at her advisor, her fair skin blushing slightly, "Thank you, Dr….Quinn."

The older blonde chuckled, asking with a raised eyebrow, "Swans?"

"I've just always been fascinated with the subject of swans. They're revered in historical folklore for their beauty and grace," Chloe explained, adding sheepishly, "Adjectives I'm sure _you're_ familiar with…."

Quinn looked up from her desk as awkward silence filled the air around the two of them, clearing her throat and saying quickly, "So what is your theme?"

"Sacred love…and the spiritual and emotional death associated with losing that one true love," Chloe answered, shuffling her copy of her outline.

Quinn internally pondered that statement, her mind instantly filling with images of Cate Boyd and regret over breaking things off with the older musician whom she fell in love with the summer before her senior year at McKinley High. The two had dated a little over five years, most of that time being long distance with Quinn in Lima, Ohio then at Yale in New Haven, Connecticut while Cate attended Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts.

The young professor physically shook her head to rid it of the intense emotions overwhelming her senses, feeling blue eyes staring across at her.

"Sacred love?" Quinn repeated to return her mind to the topic her student raised.

"Yeah, swans are known to mate for life…if one of them is untimely ripped from the other," Chloe described dramatically with the exaggerated flair Quinn saw in most thespians, "The other one has been heard to sing a mournful song…one that mimics their own death in a sense."

"Well, love is complex, Chloe…," Quinn explained, casting her gaze to the side as she spoke thoughtfully, "It can take many forms. There is romantic love, sure…but there is also love between family members…love of a parent for a child…." The older blonde trailed off with her thought, and she drew in a steadying breath of air, looking back up at the watchful eyes of her student.

"I know, but there is only that one true sacred love…one of souls connecting," Chloe persisted, "That's the most powerful connection there is…right?"

The professor nodded her agreement, a strained look on her beautiful face. "Sounds like a rich topic," Quinn replied as she handed back the pages, "You see this play as a tragedy, I take it?"

"No, it's a satirical comedy…like all love stories," a deep feminine voice retorted from the open doorway.

Quinn turned her neck to see a very attractive woman who was dressed in a navy suit with the tight skirt sitting just above her knee, revealing her long, shapely legs. Her thick, dark hair was pulled up on top of her head with wavy strands cascading down, and her brown eyes peeked out from behind a stylish pair of light brown glasses.

The blonde grimaced noticeably at the unexpected intrusion and asked with a biting edge to her otherwise sweet-sounding voice, "Did you need something?"

"Oh, just a few moments of your time…Professor," the older woman asked, giving a tight-lipped smile.

"I can come back, Quinn…um, Dr. Fabray," Chloe shifted nervously under the palpable tension, gathering her sheets of papers and stuffing them back into her zipped, canvas notebook.

"Let me think more about your proposal, Chloe," Quinn smiled at the student to offset the disruption, "We'll chat at the Cabaret tomorrow night, ok?"

"No problem…see you there," Chloe smiled too and gave a small wave as she looked back over her shoulder. When she moved toward the doorway, the taller woman stepped aside to let the young girl pass before she stepped inside purposefully and sat down, crossing her legs at the knees.

Quinn rolled her green eyes and sighed heavily, busying herself with slight organization of the many papers on her undersized desk, not saying anything to her most recent guest.

"Had I known you were '_mentoring_' a student, I would have called ahead for an appointment," the brunette said with a snarky tone.

Quinn stared blankly across at the attractive woman, "What did you need, Alison?"

"She's flirting with you," the brunette said bluntly with a smirk and raised eye brows.

"Please…," Quinn dismissed the comment, shifting uncomfortably in her fabric-covered chair.

"Don't act so surprised, Quinn," Alison Momas sneered behind a fake smile, "Humility is not your strong suit."

"And what makes you so sure she was flirting?"

"Because you were flirting back," the brunette said matter-of-factly with a shrug.

Quinn ran a hand through her shoulder-length, light honey-colored hair, leaning back in her chair. "Here we go…the same old argument," she said with a slow, exasperated sigh, "One would think you'd tire of it after nearly a year."

"One would think that _you_…," Alison told her ex-girlfriend, "…would tire of sleeping with your students."

"For the 500th time, I'm not sleeping with any of my students," she assured the older woman, "But I stopped having to defend myself to you once you packed and left."

"Oh, right…I forgot, again…everything is _my_ fault," Alison folded her arms across her chest.

"Alison, as much as I enjoy rehashing all the inherent flaws in my personality and behavior that you like to point out…did you have a reason for being here?" Quinn asked.

"Your mail," Alison leaned across the desk and placed two envelopes she'd been holding in front of Quinn.

"These are addressed to you," Quinn observed flatly.

"Yes…but they are bills we agreed _you_ would pay off."

Quinn looked a moment at her ex, reestablishing in her mind that Alison really was a beautiful woman…when she wasn't running her mouth incessantly or being overly critical. Quinn had been drawn to the fact Alison was seven years older and established in her career as a buyer for a local art museum. The young blonde found Alison Momas to be poised and assertive with impeccable style and etiquette.

She instantly caught Quinn's attention when the blonde met her through mutual friends at an art gallery opening a year earlier. Their romance had been fast and furious with Alison wining and dining the younger girl all over the state of Connecticut. After four months, Alison moved into Quinn's loft, almost instantly taking over and changing things to her particular tastes. Five months into the relationship, according to Alison, Quinn was sleeping around with every attractive, female drama student who looked twice at the young professor. After eight months together, Quinn tired of defending herself against the insane accusations and started spending more and more time at the Cabaret, carving out her niche in the New Haven theatre scene.

"Fine," Quinn picked up the envelopes, opening then closing the top drawer of her desk once she set them inside, "Anything else?"

Alison chuckled and shook her head, "That's it? Thirteen months together, and we can't even sit in the same room for more than ten minutes?"

Quinn looked down at her watch, "I have a class in a few minutes."

"No you don't…You forget I know your schedule, Quinn," the brunette smiled victoriously, "Do you lie about everything now?"

"Being in your presence exhausts me, Ali," Quinn admitted without any expression.

"Is that my cue to leave?"

Quinn didn't respond, and she cast her gaze down at the papers on her desk again.

The older woman stood with a huff and walked toward the still-open office door, saying over her shoulder, "Goodbye, Quinn…call me when you grow up."

Quinn bit at her lower lip as warm tears filled her eyes. She felt like she'd aged ten years in the past ten minutes, growing increasingly tired of her selections within the lesbian dating scene. She wanted desperately to go back in time and make different choices, specifically the choice where she broke the heart of Cate Boyd.

The blonde reached up and wiped at her cheek as a tear escaped and rolled its way down her beautiful face.

* * *

><p><strong>Friday, July 15, 2022<strong>

**6:20 PM**

Santana Lopez walked down a flight of stairs to apartment #5C and knocked on the door.

The door opened, revealing an attractive blond in khaki cargo shorts, the muscles in his exposed chest and broad shoulders subtly flexing as he stood there in the doorway. His face instantly lit up, and he greeted the brunette, "Santana…hey!"

"Hello," the Latina smiled widely, "Am I interrupting?"

"Oh, no…come in," Grayson Knox looked down at his bare chest, remembering he was sans shirt, "Sorry! Let me grab a shirt."

"No problem," Santana stepped inside the apartment, closing the door behind her and saying jovially, "I may not have dated men for years, but I can still appreciate a nice chest, Gray."

The older guy walked back out of the one bedroom in his very orderly apartment, pulling a t-shirt over his head, responding, "Well, if you ever want to participate in topless nights here at Chez Knox then I'm game."

Santana laughed loudly, knowing her good friend was teasing, "Yeah sure…in this heat…we've got topless day _and_ night up at Chez Lopez-Pierce."

"Now that's something I would not mind seeing," Grayson winked at her.

"You know…you intrigue me, Grayson," Santana told him.

"How's that?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

The brunette shrugged, "You're successful…you're sweet and charming…gorgeous…built..."

He gave her a genuine smile and looked down at the floor, clearly uncomfortable with the compliment.

"How are you single?" Santana asked with an air of wonderment.

He shifted his stance and looked back up at her, "What? I date."

"Are you referring to Kristen?" she smirked, "She was an insane bitch."

Grayson laughed, never tiring of the Latina's bluntness, "She was entertaining though…right?"

"Yeah, no," Santana shook her head, grimacing, "Not that Britt and I didn't enjoy her drunken outbursts in the stairwell at 4am…but we enjoy sleep more."

"Sorry about that," the blond blushed slightly and grinned, "That was definitely a long three months…I make bad choices, clearly."

Santana laughed, "Before Kristen though…I seriously thought you were gay."

"You did?" he chuckled good-naturedly, "Hmm…I prefer 'loner'."

"Well, Loner...you will be at Brittany's premiere…right?" she reminded him.

"Of course! Next Thursday night, yes?"

"The 21st…she's reserved some seats. Just claim your ticket at Will Call by seven fifteen, ok?"

"The Gershwin Will Call window…seven fifteen. Got it," he smiled.

"Ok, I should head back up…I didn't even bring my keys," she told him as she patted her pocketless yellow shorts for emphasis.

"Oh, did you still want that fan?" Grayson referred to the oscillating room fan he told the girls he had if they decided they needed it.

"Yes, I nearly forgot," she ran a hand through her dark hair, replying, "You're sure you aren't going to be using it?"

"No, let me grab it from my closet…just a second," he said as he walked back inside his small bedroom.

Santana looked around at the nicely-decorated apartment. It was clear a guy lived within its walls. Grayson had a sleek but comfy dark brown sectional which segmented his entertainment area perfectly, allowing a small space over by the bedroom wall for a rectangle dining area…though Santana had never known her neighbor to host any friend or family dinners. Grayson worked hard to make the space his own by painting the walls a light slate blue and hanging some framed artwork.

She walked over toward the far wall and picked up a silver-framed picture from the built-in bookshelf, looking at the smiling faces of a young woman and little boy who posed with Grayson. The brunette was just about to set it down when he returned, holding a medium-sized black fan.

"Here ya go…," he said, looking over toward the door and not seeing her.

"Sorry, I was just looking…,"Santana said from the opposite side of the room, holding up the framed photograph.

Grayson smiled, noticing his friendly neighbor suddenly seemed a bit nervous, "It's ok…I promise I don't lead a secret life. I'm not Batman or like…a serial killer or something."

"Who are they?" Santana asked curiously, knowing Grayson rarely, if ever, made any mention of family.

"My wife and son…," the handsome blond stated candidly with a strained tone to his voice.

Santana looked up quickly, uncertain as to the proper response. She'd known Grayson for two years, been in his apartment many times, albeit relatively briefly each time, but had never seen this picture nor heard him speak of a wife and son. "You are married?"

"Was married, yes," he said softly.

Santana swallowed hard and set the frame back on the shelf, turning toward Grayson, "How often do you get to see your son?"

"Never."

"Would you if you could?"

"Absolutely," Grayson looked up and nodded.

"Then why not make it happen, Gray?" Santana said encouragingly.

"Because he's gone," the blond bit at his lower lip before adding, "My wife and son were killed in a car crash three years ago this past April. Gage would have been two the following week."

The revelation instantly pulled at Santana's heart, fresh tears forming in her eyes as she steadied herself, "I didn't know, Grayson…I'm so sorry."

"How could you know? I don't mention them," he confessed as he sniffed and swallowed back his pent up emotion, "It's just too hard most of the time, but I found that picture recently…in a box down in storage, so I decided what the hell…and I set it out."

Santana looked back at the picture on the shelf, noting this time how much Gage looked just like his father with his wavy blond hair and big blue eyes. Not knowing anything more to say and never being one to handle emotional moments well, the Latina turned back toward Grayson, telling him, "You work too hard, my friend. You need to socialize more."

The handsome guy laughed, equally grateful for the change in topic, "I do, huh?"

"On Sunday, a group of us are having brunch at Caliente…at ten thirty," Santana referenced Frap's well-known Mexican restaurant where Brittany waitressed off and on, walking toward her tall neighbor and grabbing him by the upper arm to pat it affectionately, "My sister will be there…she's a sight to behold and must be experienced at least once in this lifetime."

"Anything like Kristen?" the blond joked.

Santana laughed, picturing the tiny diva she eventually grew to love immensely, "Yeah, sort of…but only slightly insane…and way less drunk."

Grayson laughed heartily at that.

"It'll be fun…some of mine and Britt's friends will be there too," Santana assured him, "…so _you _are joining us…no excuses!"

* * *

><p><strong>9: 48 PM<strong>

Santana was stretched out on the bed in her pajama shorts and tank top, watching an old movie on television and relishing the direct air-flow provided by the fan Grayson loaned her, when she heard the locks on the front door turn. Seconds later, Brittany walked through the door, locking it behind her and setting her dance bags on the floor.

The brunette sat up and called to her wife, "Hey! You're home early."

"Alton dismissed the chorus to work with Rachel on her solo numbers, sooo…," Brittany turned and smiled, "I thought I'd surprise you."

"It's an awesome surprise!" Santana exclaimed, pushing an extra pillow behind her back so she was more upright.

Brittany circled through the kitchen and opened the utensil drawer, pulling out a spoon then moving toward the bed. She stopped briefly near the chest of drawers to kick off her sneakers.

"I brought you a treat," she told Santana as she climbed on top of the bed, pushing up next to her and presenting her the spoon, "For you." The blonde unrolled the brown paper sack in her hands and pulled out a small, white carton, removing the top.

"Ice cream?" Santana asked excitedly.

"Your favorite," Brittany beamed, pleased that she thought of the gesture as she walked past the bright lights of Rainbow Sprinkles on her path from the subway to their building.

Santana stuck her spoon into the middle of the chocolaty-concoction, savoring the cool bite for a moment, "Mmmm…chocolate brownie chunk!"

Brittany's blue eyes sparkled as she watched Santana enjoy the dessert. It always gave her great pleasure to bring little surprises now and then for her sweetheart to remind Santana that she was thinking of her. "I know you're avoiding caffeine…but I thought a little bit couldn't hurt, right?"

The tall dancer smiled and leaned into the Latina, accepting a kiss of gratitude from Santana before she took another then another bite, telling Brittany, "Oh my god…this is almost as good as sex."

"That good, huh?" Brittany laughed, squeezing her arms around Santana's body.

"_Almost_…," the brunette stressed with a wink, scooping out a bite and lowering the spoon to Brittany's mouth, "Taste it."

"Heavenly," Brittany admitted, pulling Santana's head down for a kiss, her tongue lingering to lick at the chocolate residue from her wife's cold lips.

"Thank you, babe…," Santana said, taking the last couple of bites then replacing the top and reaching over Brittany's body to set the container and spoon on the bedside table.

"You are very welcome."

Santana pulled Brittany close once the Latina settled back against the pillows, laying her head over on top of the blonde's head, saying tenderly, "It's great to have a little extra time with you tonight."

Brittany moved further down Santana's body. She put her cheek against her wife's lower abdomen, telling their growing embryo, "Just remember that _I'm_ the mom who brings home ice cream."

"You're already talking to it?" Santana giggled, caressing Brittany's long, silky hair that was pulled back into a tight ponytail, "It doesn't even have ears yet."

"No, but it has a heartbeat…," Brittany clarified, still overwhelmed from their ultrasound earlier in the week that confirmed the progression and that Santana was medically six weeks pregnant. She kissed on top of the cotton fabric then rubbed her long fingers under the waistband of Santana's shorts, "I know it senses my presence."

Santana was sure of it too which made her feel a special type of warmth pass through her entire body, "I'm sure it does, love."

Brittany rested with her face pressed tightly against Santana's lower portion for a few quiet minutes, closing her eyes and trying to mentally picture what form their child might be taking as its tiny cells continued to rapidly divide. She had never really given much thought to human biology and life science before she and Santana started this fertility process.

Quite honestly, the topics always sort of bored her in school, never being a very strong student, but now that Brittany had a personal stake in the matter and a first-hand account of what all went into the phenomenon of conception and its reliance on perfect timing, she realized how truly amazing the idea of human life could be.

"That fan feels good, doesn't it?" the Latina asked, feeling it against her exposed legs and arms, seeing it blow strands of Brittany's golden hair.

"Yes! Is that the one from Grayson?"

"Yeah…speaking of…he is going with us to brunch on Sunday if that's okay with you," Santana told her wife as Brittany cuddle against her, "We're still going, right?"

"Definitely," Brittany lifted her head and shifted back up on the pillows, her long arm still draped protectively across Santana's mid-section with her hand down over the brunette's lower portion, savoring that connection, "I just have to be to the theatre by two o'clock."

"Britt, did you know he had been married?" the Latina asked rhetorically, knowing Brittany would have surely told her had she found out.

"Really?" the shock in her voice was obvious.

"He lost his wife…and their son…in a car accident a few years ago," Santana recounted sadly.

"Oh wow…that's horrible," Brittany grimaced at that revelation, "Poor Grayson…no wonder he works all the time."

"Yeah, he could hardly talk about them, so I didn't ask any details."

Brittany shook her head, the news affecting her deeply, especially on a personal level, and she confessed to her wife, "That would destroy me, Tan…if I lost you and our child."

"Gage was his son. He was two," Santana repeated what she knew.

"It's just so tragic," Brittany added, heartbroken for their friend.

"How do you ever get over something like that?" Santana pondered with a deep sigh, squeezing Brittany tightly and pushing away the sensation of ultimate loss that hung over them.

"I'm not sure you do," Brittany told her honestly, "That sort of loss affects you forever, but…you just have to find a way to carry on."

Santana took a deep breath and put her hand over Brittany's which still rested on her lower abdomen, interlocking her fingers with her wife's, then she slowly closed her eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I'm always delighted to read your comments and your private messages to me here and on tumblr. Your enthusiasm for this new story keeps me motivated, and I adore each one of you for it. Thank you!

A special thank you to Catherine, as always, for your steady pulse of support in my everyday…and an extra-special thank you to Sarah for breathing new life into my world recently and providing some of the inspiration for this particular chapter.


	5. If the Bright Lights Don't Receive You

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 5)**

_I'm so happy you're here._

_It's been a long time, since I've had you near my dear._

_Come on inside, get away from the cold wind_

_That's blowin',_

_Gonna let you know that…_

_I'm so glad you're here,_

_I worried about ya,_

_I'm so glad you're here,_

_After all we've been through._

_I'm so glad you're here,_

_It's good to see ya baby,_

_I'm so glad you're here…_

_Leave your troubles out._

_Yeah, they come to mind every time I see you 'round town._

_Be frontin' like ya got it all together,_

_But I'm no better,_

_Baby, it's you and I forever…_

…_Woah love, ain't nothin' changed._

_We're still hopeless together, woah_

_I wish you were goin' for I am doomed if you stay,_

_It's okay,_

_I need you anyway,_

_It's okay,_

_Yeah yeah,_

_It's okay,_

_I need you anyway, and_

_I'm so happy you're here…._

(Glad You're Here ~ Macy Gray)

**Sunday, July 17, 2022**

**10:52 AM**

"Why are you so fidgety?" Brittany asked Grayson as she and Santana walked hand in hand up the sidewalk with him toward the Caliente Cab Company restaurant on Sunday morning.

"Am I?" the tall blond guy asked, taking a deep breath as he pushed up the rolled sleeves of his cotton, button-up shirt.

"Yes," Santana laughed and nodded agreement, "Calm down, Gray…these people won't bite."

"Not at first anyway," Brittany joked with a wink toward Santana, squeezing the Latina's right hand and thinking how sexy she looked in her white mini skirt and sleeveless yellow top.

"So exactly who all is going to be there?" Grayson asked with a nervous edge to his deep voice, "Besides Rachel?"

"Just several of the dancers from our show," Brittany answered, explaining further as she looked up at him over the top of her wife's head, "They're good friends of mine…and a lot of fun."

"This sounds like a big group," he grimaced slightly which was not lost on Santana.

"You'll be fine," the brunette put a reassuring hand on his strong shoulder as she walked next to him, "Just treat it like one of your Ad presentations…and picture them all in their underwear."

"I never do that," he balked, curling his upper lip.

"I know, Grayson…it was a joke. You really need to loosen up," she sounded exasperated.

The three of them stopped at the front door of Caliente.

"Come on, Gray…," Brittany laughed, linking her arm through his as they paused a second, "You're a great guy…just be yourself and they'll adore you as much as we do."

The handsome blond smiled appreciatively and opened the door for the girls to walk through first then he followed them further into the restaurant where they were greeted by a large table of jovial faces.

"Santana!" Austin Royle jumped up and hugged his best friend's spouse.

"Hi, Austin," the Latina said, sitting down in the chair that Brittany pulled out for her after Austin circled back around the table.

Brittany sat next to her wife, directly across from Austin, leaving Grayson to sit on the other side of Santana.

"Hello, Santana. I'm Brooke…Weber," the auburn-haired dancer stretched out her hand across the rectangle-shaped table, "I don't think we've officially met…but I feel like I know you well, because Brittany _never_ shuts up about you."

"Never," Austin added with a broad hand gesture.

Everyone at the table laughed which made Brittany blush, her freckles highlighted as her fair skin turned a hint of pink.

Santana squeezed Brittany's muscular thigh under the table before reaching across and shaking Brooke's hand, telling her, "Nice to meet you, Brooke."

"This is our friend, Grayson Knox," Brittany introduced their guest.

"Grayson is our neighbor," Santana added, pointing to the quiet guy who sat to her left, "He lives in the apartment under us."

"Hi, Grayson," Brooke smiled widely with her perfect white teeth showing, tilting her head in a flirtatious manner, "We're glad you came today."

"I'm Eva," the young Hispanic girl on the other side of Austin said, giving Grayson a small wave and tossing her long dark hair back over her petite shoulder.

Santana looked down at her menu, internally applauding herself that Grayson was obviously an instant hit…physically anyway.

"Sooo…I have an announcement," Austin knocked against his water glass with his knife, clearing his throat, "I, Austin Royle…have found true love."

"What?" Brittany looked up from her menu and gave him mocked shock, the rest of the table joining in with some mumbled amazement.

"No, no…it's true…I am _officially_ smitten," the brunette dancer played to the table of his friends with complete drama.

"And where did you meet this Prince Charming, Austin?" Gianna Santoro asked from the far end of the table.

"In the middle of dance floor B at Lover Boys on Friday night," Austin replied with all seriousness.

There was an awkward pause of silence before the entire table broke into hearty laughter.

"Oh, that is definitely true love, Austin," Brooke snorted, slapping at his right shoulder.

"Did you lose your shoe as you ran off the dance floor and into your awaiting carriage?" fellow dancer Kyle Attmore poked fun at Austin's encounter.

"Hold on now…are you suggesting that it is implausible to find love on the dance floor?" Austin feigned hurt, "It is, after all, called…Lover Boys."

The table of friends laughed more.

"Do you have a date with this guy?" Brittany wondered.

"Well…he gave me his number," her best friend replied.

"Oh, so you're taking things slowly?" Grayson chimed into the conversation, "That's wise."

Everyone laughed again, making the shy guy feel a little more at ease.

"I like this guy!" Kyle stated from the other side of Brittany which brought a smile to the blonde dancer's face, pleased their friend was trying to fit in.

"I'm not missing any of the fun, am I?" Rachel Berry said as she walked up behind them.

"Finally!" Austin exclaimed.

"We were about to order without you," Gianna warned playfully.

The group told her hello, and Santana gave a side glance to Brittany when Rachel sat at the end of the table right next to Grayson instead of the only other empty chair on the other side.

"Hi," the handsome blond told her as she sat down.

"Hi," Rachel smiled, immediately noticing his pretty blue eyes, "I'm Rachel Berry."

"Yes, I know…I've seen your pictures," Grayson said softly, looking down and turning a page of his menu, "You're very beautiful."

"Oh, those silly headshots never look like the real person," Rachel told him dismissively, assuming he was in the theatre industry.

"No, I mean…pictures with your family," he smiled sweetly, "In Santana and Brittany's apartment."

"Oh?" the tiny diva was somewhat confused.

"I'm their neighbor. I'm 5C," he explained, reaching out his hand, inserting awkwardly, "Sorry…I meant, I'm Grayson."

Rachel smiled, a slight blush passing over her, and replied, "Nice to meet you."

Santana looked over at her sister and smiled knowingly, enjoying the slight smirk that crossed Rachel's face in return.

"Are you guys ready to order now?" a young waiter asked, pad and pen in hand.

"Yes, we're starving," Eva stated.

"Okay…we'll start with you then," the waiter told her, moving to her end of the table.

The waiter went around the table, taking food and drink orders. Once they ordered and handed over their menus and the rest of the table was listening to a story Gianna was telling about her husband and his recent business trip to Miami, Rachel turned to Grayson.

"So, _you're_ the infamous downstairs neighbor I've heard Santana and Brittany talk about?" she said with an engaging smile.

"Infamous?" Grayson laughed.

"Well, I know you do a lot for them…and they appreciate it very much," Rachel expanded.

Grayson's looked touched by that sentiment, "They do a lot for me too…more than they know."

"What do you do for a living?" Rachel asked, wanting to make conversation.

"I'm in advertising."

"Oh? So you come up with commercials on television and stuff?"

"Some…mainly though, I develop print ads," he described.

"Interesting," Rachel offered, "Would I recognize any of your ideas?"

"Hmm…you know that billboard in the subway for Snickers?"

She thought a second then answered, "Oh, the one that says 'Snickers, because every day's a little nutty'?"

Grayson laughed, looking down in slight embarrassment, "Yeah…dumb, huh?"

Rachel laughed too, putting her hand over his forearm, "I think it's cute…and accurate."

"Are you nervous about the premiere Thursday?" he asked her.

"Very!"

"I have a confession…I knew who you were already, because I saw you in _The Brokenhearted_," Grayson said.

"Oh god…that was nearly six years ago," Rachel covered her face with her hands, "What a miserable experience."

"I saw it the night before it closed," he remembered with a smile.

"You and about ten others," Rachel self-jeered about her early, ill-fated Broadway role.

"That's not true!" he laughed, "There were _at least_ forty other people in the audience that night."

That made Rachel cackle. "It was a small role anyway. Thank goodness I've had other shows since then."

"Well, you made the most of it, because I still remember you," he said sweetly.

"Yeah, right…what was the song I sang?" she teased.

"Ok…maybe I don't remember _that_ much about it," he confessed, feeling caught.

The small brunette shook her head as she smiled, "See! That show sucked."

"Ok, it did suck," he admitted, adding quickly, "…_but_ your talent jumped off that stage, I do remember that…and when I saw your picture with Santana, I knew exactly who you were."

Rachel looked at Grayson, seeing sincerity in his deep blue eyes. Talking to him made her feel giddy, something the petite diva had not felt in a long time. She took a bite of her lunch that had been set in front of her, setting her fork back down when she felt her phone buzz inside the pocket of her skirt.

She pulled it out to see that in was an incoming call from Steve Hagler, the guy she'd recently been dating. Rachel looked to her right again at Grayson, instantly smiling, then she hit the decline button and stuffed the phone back inside her pocket.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday, July 21, 2022<strong>

**11:18 AM**

Brittany busied herself in the kitchen Thursday morning. Her nervous energy over opening night looming less than nine hours away had her thoroughly cleaning the counter tops and the appliances as soon as she got out of bed. She even straightened the insides of the few cabinets they had in their efficiency apartment then scrubbed down the bathroom, all before eleven o'clock.

She looked over at Santana who had helped with sweeping and vacuuming as best she could but who was now napping comfortably on the couch. Brittany smiled tenderly while she stood there and studied the sleeping form of her wife as the mid-morning sunlight cascaded through their only window and rained over her. After a lifetime of knowing each other, Santana was still the most beautiful sight in Brittany's world.

The blonde couldn't remember the last time she paused inside her apartment in the daylight. Nearly every hour of her recent days had been spent in stage rehearsals and final run-throughs, especially the last couple of days. Last night, she didn't get home until after four o'clock in the morning, and still, she could only sleep soundly until about nine before the adrenaline started pumping in her veins.

Brittany took a deep breath and felt her stomach growl. _Okay, Britt…you need energy_, she thought…_then perhaps a power nap_. She laughed to herself, turning toward the refrigerator.

She bent over to look at the small interior, seeing a carton of eggs. Pulling those out, she broke a few in a bowl and stirred them quickly with a fork, adding a bit of tap water like her mom always did when she made them scrambled eggs, then she poured the yellowy liquid into a skillet and turned on the heat under it.

As she waited for those to cook, she looked in the fridge again, grabbing the milk and a block of cheddar cheese. She grated some of the cheese and tossed it into the eggs right before they were done cooking, since she knew that was the way Santana liked them best.

After she divided the cheesy eggs among two plates, she sliced a banana equally for them and poured them both a small glass of milk, turning toward Santana again.

With all the cleaning and cooking, the Latina had not even stirred. She lay on her side with the fan Grayson loaned them blowing comfortably on her. Santana had mentioned a couple of times to Brittany that morning that her energy level was lacking more and more and that all she wanted to do was sleep lately, so Brittany encouraged her to relax on the couch. Not ten minutes after that, the blonde noticed her wife was in a deep sleep, adorably snoring lightly.

The tall dancer walked over to the couch and gently rubbed Santana's back, telling her, "Honey…I made lunch."

Santana took a deep breath as Brittany's gentle nudging woke her, and her eyes fluttered opened. It took her a second, but she finally sat up and squinted to force herself further into consciousness, looking up at her wife to say, "Did I fall asleep?"

Brittany laughed and ran a firm caress down the back of Santana's dark hair, "Yeah, you did…for over an hour. Do you feel any better?"

The brunette stretched, replying, "A little, thanks."

"I made your favorite…let's eat before it gets cold," Brittany suggested as she stood and walked back toward the kitchen table.

"Do you mind if I sit over here by the fan?" Santana requested, still struggling with her internal temperature inside the warm apartment.

"Sure," Brittany shrugged, agreeably picking up both plates and forks and taking them over to the couch.

She handed one to Santana then sat cross-legged on the floor at her feet, facing her. Brittany hungrily took two bites in quick succession, savoring the taste of hot food before looking up at her wife.

Santana held her plate, perched on her legs that were tucked underneath her, with her fork in her left hand, grimacing slightly.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asked, taking another big bite and wishing she had thought to buy bagels.

Santana looked down at the cheesy mixture which she usually loved, silently pushing around some of it with her fork.

"Santana?" Brittany prodded, noticing the Latina looked a little pale suddenly.

"Nothing," Santana waived off, not wanting to offend Brittany who had gone to the trouble of making the eggs just the way the brunette liked them. She picked up a bite with her fork and slowly brought it to her mouth, chewing cautiously. When that bite went down, Santana smiled at her attentive wife and took a few more small bites, trying to concentrate on the story Brittany recounted as she ate about one of the first act routines that required the female dancers to wear roller skates.

"Good, huh?" Brittany paused her story to ask cheerfully.

Santana gulped hard as her stomach did a flip-flop, "Uhuh."

Brittany went on with her story, finishing her banana and setting her plate behind her on the coffee table. When she turned her head back around, she noticed a distinct greenish color to Santana's face.

"Honey? Are you okay?" she asked.

Before Santana could respond or even stand to move toward the restroom, her stomach revolted violently, and she threw up all over the floor below, most of it ending up on Brittany's arm and leg.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," Santana said immediately, coughing slightly and holding her plate of partially-eaten eggs. Fresh tears formed in her eyes as she looked down at Brittany whose face looked like a deer in headlights, holding out her left arm as a chunk of egg slid off onto the floor.

Brittany swallowed hard, steadying her own stomach, and said, "Ok, so no more eggs for a while."

Brittany took the plate from Santana, and the Latina started crying, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Oh, hon…it's ok. Don't cry," Brittany assured her wife, standing from the floor, "We'll get it cleaned up."

Brittany stepped over to the sink to wash her arm off then she grabbed a roll of paper towel and cleaned off her long leg, pulling off her tank top and shorts.

"I'm sorry, Britt," the brunette sniffed hard.

The blonde walked back over to where Santana still sat, placing several of the paper towels on top of the small remaining mess, telling her, "Well, I think you can add morning sickness to your pregnancy journal."

"It just happened so fast…I am so sorry."

It was clear that Santana was emotionally upset by the incident so Brittany kneeled down next to the couch, reassuring her crying wife.

"Tan, it's ok, sweetheart. Please don't let it upset you," she told her, putting her arm around her back.

Santana leaned into Brittany's shoulder, her stomach still churning.

Brittany ran a soft touch down Santana's jawline, tucking a long strand of her raven hair behind her ear, and reminded her lightheartedly, "Remember the time I got food poisoning from that Turkish place? Huh?"

The Latina let out a small laugh in response, relaxing further into Brittany's body.

"Remember?" Brittany sat back on her heels and lifted Santana's chin, smiling broadly, "I puked all over you _and_ the bed."

"Yeah, I remember," Santana gave her a smile back, feeling a little less embarrassed, "I really liked that comforter. Too bad we had to throw it out."

Brittany laughed, "Then you took care of me the rest of the night while I slept in the bathroom."

"I had to sit inside the shower stall, because you took up the entire floor," Santana added with fond devotion.

"See! So it happens to the best of us…and it'll probably happen again in the next few months," Brittany said playfully, rubbing Santana's shoulder.

Santana nodded with a frown, her arms wrapped around her torso.

"Quinn always said that was a good sign, remember?"

"Yes," Santana agreed.

"Is there something else that sounds good that I could make for you?" Brittany asked, shifting to clean up the rest of the mess on the floor.

"Honestly…nothing sounds good," Santana wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"Nothing?" Brittany stood again to throw away the paper towels, "Maybe some toast? I don't think we have any saltines, but I can run around the corner and get you some."

"Britt…no. You should be relaxing and preparing for tonight," Santana called to her as the blonde moved across the room into the bathroom.

She returned a moment later with a can of Lysol, spraying the rug and putting down a towel.

"I love you," Santana stood up and pulled Brittany up by her elbow, hugging her, "You are officially the best wife ever."

Brittany tilted her head and smiled, "I like taking care of you two."

"Then you are officially the best mom ever too," Santana winked.

* * *

><p><strong>7:44 PM<strong>

"Was Brittany nervous?" Quinn Fabray asked Santana as they sat in row sixteen of the orchestra section in the Gershwin Theatre, waiting for the show to start.

"Yes, very…though she never admitted it," Santana laughed, adding with an affectionate hand on top of Quinn's hand, "It means so much that you came tonight."

Quinn smiled, "I wouldn't miss it. How often do I get the chance to see _two_ of my best friends on Broadway on opening night?"

"I think we've crossed into the big leagues…it's crazy how many celebrities are here tonight," the Latina said with awe.

"I wish Brittany's family could have come tonight," Quinn frowned.

"I could tell Britt was a little disappointed."

"You said they're coming in August?" the blonde clarified.

Santana nodded, "Yeah, that's the first opportunity John could get time away from work."

"Well, that will just spread out the celebrations," Quinn tried to ease over the absence of the Pierce family.

Daniel and Trey Berry made their way up the row to its center to take their seats.

"Would you believe that we just saw Bernadette Peters in the lobby?" Daniel asked as he sat to the left of Santana, "She still looks fabulous."

"I saw Sutton Foster in the ladies room," Quinn leaned forward and added excitedly.

"This is incredible!" Daniel beamed.

"Did you buy anything?" Santana asked her fathers who had gone out to the lobby to look at the memorabilia counter.

"Yes, of course…," Trey answered opening their plastic bag, "We bought souvenir programs…here's one for each of you…and coffee mugs…."

"…and t-shirts," Daniel interjected, "We don't even wear t-shirts…now we own three of them!"

Santana and Quinn laughed at the older men as a deep voice said from the other side of the row, "Hi."

They turned to see Grayson standing there. He looked very nice in a fitted black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders. The tall blond even had on a fancy tie clip, and Santana noticed that he smelled nice as he took his assigned seat on the other side of Quinn.

"I'm glad you made it," the brunette told him, "Grayson Knox…this is Quinn Fabray…my oldest and dearest friend in the world."

"Nice to meet you, Grayson," Quinn smiled politely, crossing her legs at the knees and sitting back in her seat.

"You too," he nodded, looking past Quinn to Santana, "Do you think they're ready?"

"I think they are out of time if they're not," she teased as the house lights flickered for everyone to take their seat.

* * *

><p><strong>10:39 PM<strong>

"Rachel!" Daniel Berry called out at the open door of his daughter's backstage dressing room.

The petite star turned quickly, responding loudly over the buzz of activity around her, "Daddy!"

Daniel squeezed past two larger men clad in tuxedos, approaching his daughter with extended arms and pulling her into a tight embrace, "Dad and I are so proud of you tonight. You were absolutely sensational out there. Everyone around us said so."

"Thank you so much," she said with tears in her brown eyes, taking him by the hand and pulling him back through the small crowd, "Come here, there's something I want you to see."

Daniel followed her to her dressing room door where she stopped and pointed to its center, "Look…a gold star…just for me!"

Daniel smiled widely and cackled, "You made it, sweetheart…You're a star!"

"Alton was pleased," Rachel told him, relief in her voice, "…and, he said she was here…she _actually_ came to see it."

"Barbra?" Daniel clarified, "We saw her when she was seated. She was about ten rows in front of us."

"How did she look?" Rachel was more excited about her idol being in the audience than about her own performance.

Daniel smiled, assuring the tiny brunette, "She looks exactly the same. Ageless."

"I can't believe it, Daddy…Barbra Streisand saw _me_ perform on Broadway," Rachel couldn't contain her happy tears, and they trailed down her heavily made-up face, "Me…Rachel Berry."

"She saw you bring the house down, sweetheart!" Daniel hugged her again, adding, "Watch out, Tony Awards…here comes, Rachel Berry."

"There's my baby girl," Trey said as he made his way up the walkway, having no trouble seeing over the heads of the other well-wishers and theatre-industry folks who were gathered, discussing the show.

"Dad!" Rachel beamed, reaching up to hug him, "I wondered where you were."

"We stopped a minute to say hi to Brittany," Santana answered, walking up behind them and hugging Rachel, "We are so proud of you, Rach…congratulations. The show is amazing!"

The smaller brunette pulled back to say, "Thank you. I love you guys so much."

"So this is your dressing room?" Santana asked, looking inside the space that was filed with bouquets of brightly-colored flowers.

"Yes, come in…they're pouring champagne to celebrate," Rachel pulled her father by the hand, walking her family further inside.

As Rachel handed the two Mr. Berrys champagne flutes to participate in the toasting of Broadway's latest hit, Santana peeked at a couple of the cards on the bouquets, seeing one from the producer of the revival, Gail Thornton, and another from Richard Mullins, Rachel's previous boyfriend who seemed to be permanently out of the picture.

Right on Rachel's make-up counter, there was an elegant arrangement of antique garden roses that caught Santana's eye. Of the twenty-four buds, some were ivory and some were mauve with a few pale pink and peach colored ones mixed in. _Gorgeous_, Santana thought.

The Latina pulled the small envelope out of it and looked down at the card which read _Broadway is about to get a lot brighter. Best wishes to its newest star, Grayson_

Santana smiled and nodded to herself, noting aloud, "Well played, Gray."

She then looked over at her sister and smiled wider, watching Rachel in her element of being the celebrated center of attention. Santana was elated for the petite brunette who never took her eye off her ultimate goal…and to see Rachel achieve the accolades that she so deserved made Santana swell with pride.

The Latina moved up next to her family to add her applause as the show's producer led the group in a toast to everyone who worked so hard to make _Funny Girl_a success.

Santana put a hand over her lower torso, privately thanking her own karma for allowing Brittany and her to achieve a different ultimate goal, feeling totally at peace with her professional sacrifice.

* * *

><p><strong>10:50 PM<strong>

Dominic Serra stepped up on a dressing room chair and clapped his hands loudly, shouting over the energy of ecstatic chorus members who were celebrating their opening night triumph in order to say, "Well done, ladies!"

"Ladies?" Austin Royle retort, looking over at fellow male dancer Adrian Dimas who shrugged with a smile.

"Sorry, my bad…Ladies and Adrian," Dominic joked which got a loud laugh from the gathered group, "Your hard work paid off…the ensemble numbers were_nearly_ flawless."

"I agree," a deep voice added from the doorway.

The group of dancers turned to see their director, Alton Weiss, standing there, leaning casually against the frame.

"I wanted to add my appreciation for your dedication and flexibility these last few weeks," Alton said with a sincerity typically absent from his voice, "I know you each have sacrificed time with your loved ones and your social life in order to listen to me shout at you week after week, but I am pleased with the performances tonight."

They all applauded themselves and smiled at one another.

"The buzz is good…so go celebrate yourselves. Have a drink and curse my existence," Alton advocated, "Then get home and rest up to do it all over again tomorrow night!"

"Thank you, Alton," Dominic said as the intense director turned and left, "Okay, you heard the man…go celebrate!"

Austin turned to Brittany and said, "Are we still going over to Caliente?"

"Definitely," the blonde replied, "I just need to change clothes and find Santana then we'll head down there."

"Good, we'll meet you there," Austin hugged her.

"We?" she repeated, "Are you bringing this mystery boyfriend?"

The brunette dancer laughed, "No…and he's not my boyfriend…_yet_."

"Interesting," Brittany winked at him which caused her dear friend to blush, "See you there then."

* * *

><p><strong>Friday, July 22, 2022<strong>

**12:08 AM**

"Congratulations!" Frap called out in his glorious booming southern drawl, crossing the back dining room of Caliente to welcome everyone.

"Thank you, Frap," Brittany said, hugging her former boss warmly, then she introduced him to her fellow chorus dancers and their significant others.

"We have this whole room sectioned off for y'all," the older man told them, motioning the group inside, "Just go up to the bar and tell Eli what your drink orders are." Frap then leaned in closer to Brittany and whispered in her ear, "Everything's on me tonight, sweetheart."

Brittany grinned and shook her head, "There is a big heart in that old chest of yours, huh?"

"Shhh…our secret," Frap winked then slapped her playfully on her backside, saying louder, "Proud of you, kid!"

Everyone took seats around the various tables and enjoyed colorful margaritas from the bar, toasting the show and themselves. There was even a live band playing in next dining room though the loud beat was quickly getting to Santana, her head pounding.

She leaned over to Brittany and told her, "Britt, I think I'm going to head home if that's ok?"

"Oh sure, hon…I'll walk you," she told her wife, standing up from the table.

"No, you stay and celebrate with your friends," the Latina insisted, "I'll take a cab home."

"You sure?" Brittany was feeling a bit drunk, but she was with it enough to worry, "At least let me wait with you until you get one…come on."

The blonde grabbed Santana by the hand and pulled her toward the front of the restaurant to hail a cab.

"I'll be back," Brittany hollered to the gathered group.

Quinn returned from the restroom that was down in the basement, walking back over to the tables.

"Where's Brittany and Santana?" the young professor asked Grayson who was hanging out longer than he wanted with hopes Rachel would show up.

"Santana wanted to go home," he informed her, "She said to tell you she'd see you in the morning at your hotel before your train leaves."

"Oh ok," Quinn grimaced, knowing that didn't sound like her friend, ending a night of festivity early.

"Brittany will be right back," Grayson assured her.

Quinn nodded and went over to the bar, leaning into it to steady herself a bit and ordering a fresh swirled margarita from Eli, the bartender.

"Careful now…the margaritas here are strong," a deep voice said, coming up next to her.

She smiled as she turned her head, but her expression froze in place as she looked up into a very familiar face.

"Quinn Fabray…what the hell are you doing here?" the masculine voice asked in mild shock.

"Puck?"

"Small world, huh?" Noah Puckerman smiled, leaning over to give her a hug.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she asked him, her face full of confusion.

"My band is playing here, last night and tonight," he pointed back over his shoulder with his thumb, "We're at Fast Eddie's in the Village Friday and Saturday."

"I thought you were on the West Coast," Quinn stated, "Something about fishing cruises?"

"Rich people will pay a lot for you to take them out in a fancy boat so they can catch a fish," he winked.

"How did you end up here?"

"I did the fishing all day, partying all night thing for a few years…even squeezed in some surf tournaments that I won…," he recounted, "…but then a few of my boys were putting together a band and needed a lead guitarist…so here I am."

"Here you are," Quinn smiled at him, "I almost didn't recognize you…you grew out your Mohawk."

"Yeah, it was blond too until six months ago," he laughed and rubbed his hand through his thick brown hair.

"Blond?" Quinn laughed at that image, "No way!"

"I swear…look, I have a picture on my phone," he pulled out his cell phone and thumbed through until he found a picture of himself on a big white boat, holding up a large fish, "See, told you."

"Oh god," Quinn laughed harder, looking up at his recognizable boyish grin, easily remembering the adolescent who got her pregnant when they were sophomores at William McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio.

"It was bad, huh?" Puck admitted.

"Yeah…don't ever do that again," she turned when Eli handed her a small glass with red and green swirled liquid inside, telling him, "Thank you."

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asked Puck.

"Dos Equis," he told him then accepted the dark colored bottle of Mexican beer when Eli handed it to him, throwing down some cash on the bar, "Thanks, man."

"So what's your story…what puts you here tonight?" Puck asked turning toward Quinn.

"Rachel's premiere was tonight…she's in a new revival of _Funny Girl_…so is Brittany," Quinn said proudly.

"Oh cool…how'd it go?"

"Rachel was absolutely brilliant," Quinn responded.

"I'd expect nothing less from Berry," Puck said affectionately, "She was born for that role."

"She should be here soon…she'll tell you all about it."

"Oh I'm sure of it…every moment…in nauseating detail," he joked.

"She has not changed," Quinn smiled widely.

"Neither have you, Quinn," he paused, "You're just as beautiful as ever."

"Thanks," the blonde blushed and took a sip of her drink to help cover it.

"How's Cate?" Puck tried to be cordial, inwardly still as jealous as ever of Cate Boyd, having been rejected by Quinn when the blonde started dating the older girl.

"Cate and I broke up actually…long story," Quinn took another drink of the frozen concoction, casting her gaze downward.

"Ok…well, listen…I've got one more set to play then how about we sit down and you give me whatever version of the story you feel like telling?"

Quinn took a deep breath and leaned into Puck, squeezing him tightly, remembering for a brief moment what it felt like to be young again. "I missed you, Puck…I'm really glad to see you."

The tall brunette squeezed her back, a flood of feelings washing back over him, "I missed you too, Quinn…very much."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This was a long chapter so I hope it made up for the update being a couple of days late.

If you enjoyed it then please let me know by leaving a review! :)


	6. Turn Yourself Around and Come On Home

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 6)**

_Poor old Granddad,  
>I laughed at all his words.<br>I thought he was a bitter man,  
>He spoke of woman's ways…<em>

_They'll trap you then they use you,  
>Before you even know.<br>For love is blind and you're far too kind,  
>Don't ever let it show…<em>

_I wish that I knew what I know now  
>When I was younger.<br>I wish that I knew what I know now  
>When I was stronger…<em>

_The can can's such a pretty show,  
>They'll steal your heart away,<br>But backstage, back on earth again,  
>The dressing rooms are gray…<em>

_They come on strong, and it ain't too long  
>Before they make you feel a man.<em>

_But love is blind and you soon will find  
>You're just a boy again…<em>

_…You'll have to learn, just like me,_

_And that's the hardest way,_

_Ooh la la_

_I wish that I knew what I know now  
>When I was younger.<br>I wish that I knew what I know now  
>When I was stronger.<em>

(Ooh La La ~ The Faces)

**Friday, July 22, 2022**

**9:07 AM**

Quinn Fabray opened her eyes with a jolt Friday morning. It took her sleep-deprived brain several seconds to catch up as she lay motionless on her stomach in bed. As those seconds crept by, the blond drama professor felt her head pounding. It was the kind of pounding that reverberated like a pinball from her forehead to the top of her head then back down from one temple to the other before slamming against the back of her skull, leaving her teeth aching.

She moaned slightly as she closed her eyes again then slowly reopened them, hoping for a different outcome. The result was the same, only the pounding was harder as she shifted her green eyes to look across the bed, trying to remember the night's events.

Quinn's thoughts were fuzzy just like the foul taste in her mouth. She swallowed hard in an effort to force moisture but that worked about as well as someone in Hell requesting ice water.

The blonde remembered celebrating with Brittany and Santana…briefly. She also remembered Rachel never showed, eventually texting that she got caught having to talk with the press and the show's investors and other industry bigwigs.

After a few strong margaritas, the rest of the night was a blur.

"Good morning," a friendly voice said from somewhere inside the room.

That startled her, causing her to move before her stiff joints and muscles were ready as she tried sitting upright in the bed. When she did, she realized she was totally naked.

"Aahh," she screeched, reaching for the cream-colored sheet, her head pounding even harder and making her dizzy.

Quinn pulled the sheet up around her bare chest and turned her head to the right, finding her past standing there freshly showered and in a towel with a big dopey grin.

"Oh god," the blonde said, a look of horror on her pretty face.

"I was going to surprise you and go get coffee and bagels."

She continued to stare, pulling the sheet up to her neck and looking around the familiar room to realize she was back inside her hotel. She finally asked, "Why are you here?"

"What?" Puck asked, somewhat confused, running a hand through his wet hair and moving toward the bed, "You didn't think I'd just sneak out on you this morning, did you? I'm classier than that."

Quinn looked down at herself then back up at Puck. "Did we…?"

The tall brunette sat on the edge of the bed and smiled as he leaned to kiss Quinn, "You look beautiful in the sunlight."

She cut him off abruptly by covering her mouth with her free hand, "What are you doing?"

"What's your problem?" he asked, taken aback by the harsh reception.

"You need to leave," Quinn stated firmly, "Now."

"Why?" Puck's face showed a look of hurt.

"Because I'm gay, Puck…," the blonde shook her head, rattled by the haze of memory filtering back into her head, emphasizing, "…this should **not**have happened."

"Well, you certainly didn't seem 'gay' last night," he accused, standing up and moving to a side chair where his jeans were draped.

"No…I was drunk last night…and lonely…and just plain stupid," Quinn rambled, "but I was…and _am_…still very much gay."

Puck pulled on his boxer briefs and faded black jeans, shaking his head and staring over at Quinn but not saying any of the dozens of things running through his mind. He pulled his red t-shirt over his head and bent over to grab his socks and black boots, finally responding simply, "Fine."

It wasn't Quinn's intention to hurt him, but she felt the truth needed to be made clear so there was no further ambiguity. "Puck…last night should have ended with old friends sharing drinks and laughs," she tried to soften the message, "I take full responsibility…I'm really sorry."

"Fine," he repeated abrasively, walking toward the door, shoes in hand.

"Puck…," Quinn pulled up to her knees, still gripping the sheet tightly.

"I'm sorry I ever saw you again, Quinn Fabray…," Puck stated bitterly as he yanked open the room's door, running face first into Santana who held a drink caddy with two cups of coffee with one hand and with her other hand raised to knock.

"Sorry," he said, brushing past her as she stood there in shock.

"Puck?" the Latina recognized him instantly, having dated him herself in high school.

The angry rocker kept walking toward a set of elevators, saying over his shoulder, "Not now, Lopez."

Noah Puckerman got into the elevator which opened straightaway, never turning around as the doors closed behind him.

Santana shook her head in disbelief, her eyes as wide as saucers, then she knocked firmly on the partially-opened door, announcing her arrival, "Quinn? It's me."

The dark-haired beauty did not wait for the okay to enter, pushing on the barrier then closing it behind her. She found her best friend still sitting in the middle of the king-sized bed, cloaked in its bed sheets.

Santana grimaced as she stood there silently staring at Quinn who looked as disheveled and demoralized as the brunette had ever seen her.

She shook her head and moved to the edge of the mattress, "Do not say a word."

Santana frowned and shrugged. "Did I?"

"Just please don't," she told her old friend, bunching up the long sheet around her torso as she pushed past her toward the bathroom, "I do _not_ need a lecture."

Santana turned to set the cups of coffee on a nearby round table, saying, "Me lecture? Never."

She busied herself with putting sweetener and cream into one of the cups, hearing Quinn moving around inside the bathroom.

A couple of minutes later, Quinn stepped out in one of the hotel's white bathrobes, and asked, "Ok, aren't you going to say anything at all?"

"You told me not to…," Santana took a bite of her bagel with cream cheese, sitting in one of the chairs and crossing her legs at the knees.

"I ran into him last night."

"Uhuh," she said as she chewed.

"He's in the band that played last night at Caliente."

Santana nodded, taking another bite, "Ok."

"We had too much to drink," Quinn admitted, "Things went _way_ off track."

"Clearly," Santana said with a raised eyebrow.

"You can drop the judgement," Quinn warned, pulling the lid off the other coffee cup and taking a big gulp, "Ugh…this is horrible coffee."

"Mine is good…and there is no judgement, Q…," Santana commented, taking another sip, adding, "…but, he's still in love with you. I saw it in his face."

"He needs to get over it," the blonde dismissed, "This tastes like decaf."

"Oh hell…they mismarked them then. Here, this one must be regular. I should've known it tasted too good to be decaf," Santana pushed the other cup toward Quinn, "Sorry about the cream."

Quinn looked down at the cup in her hand, her upper lip curling in disgust, then she handed it to Santana, asking passively, "Why are you drinking decaf recently? The only people who drink decaf are old people and pregnant women."

Santana looked up at her friend, their eyes locking.

"No way! You are?" Quinn surmised correctly, a smile filling her face when she realized Santana was not denying the statement, "You are!"

"Seven weeks," Santana smiled too.

"Congratulations!" Quinn squealed with delight, bending to hug Santana tightly, "I'm so happy for you guys."

"Thank you," the Latina accepted the embrace, "Please don't tell anyone yet, ok?"

"Of course not," Quinn assured her, holding on to the brunette's hand, "This is such a surprise, San!"

Santana smirked as she retorted, "Well, not _nearly_as big a surprise as you this morning."

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, July 31, 2022<strong>

**12:28 PM**

Rachel Berry stopped walking, pausing near an oversized, cement shrub planter that was affixed in front of Kabuki in Midtown Manhattan, pulling out her purse mirror and quickly checking her hair for perfection and her white teeth for red lipstick. She stuffed the mirror back inside her fashionable handbag and flattened out the black skirt of her lightweight dress before stepping to the restaurant's front door and pulling it opened.

As soon as she stepped into the foyer of the popular Japanese restaurant, she spotted a handsome blond guy waiting patiently on an ornate bench made of dark, polished wood.

"I am so sorry I'm late," Rachel apologized genuinely as she walked up to him.

"It's ok," Grayson Knox said as he stood, his six foot height towering over the petite brunette, "I guess I should just be honored that you showed up this time."

Rachel took in a deep breath, knowing she fully deserved that zing after never showing to the Caliente celebration on premiere night and cancelling their last two attempts at a lunch date.

"I had a morning meeting that ran longer than I expected, but thank you for waiting," she emphasized the second part of her statement.

Grayson gave her a tight-lipped smile, easing the tension slightly, then told her, "Let's get a table."

The two of them were seated quickly inside the busy dining area which was packed full of men and women in business suits and high-powered work attire. They ordered just as quickly from the sushi bar when their efficient waitress arrived at their table, bringing glasses of water and a fresh pot of green tea.

Grayson removed the lid of the ornamental Japanese teapot, checking that the tea had fully brewed, before asking Rachel, "Tea?"

"Yes, please," she responded, pushing her small cup closer toward him.

He poured some of the green-tinted liquid into her cup then into his own, setting the pot back down on the side of their table.

Rachel squeezed a wedge of lemon into hers then blew on it to dissipate some of its steam before lifting it to her mouth and taking a sip. "I love hot tea," she informed, "It's so good for the throat."

Grayson nodded then took a sip of his.

"I drink some in my dressing room before each performance," she detailed.

"Interesting," the blond forced a smile.

"So the reviews all say we're a hit!" the Broadway starlet stated excitedly.

"I've read," Grayson acknowledged, taking another sip of his tea.

Rachel nervously shifted in her chair, observing, "You don't have much to say."

"Why did you ask me to lunch today, Rachel?" Grayson said candidly.

She tucked her hair behind her ears, stammering, "I…I…just wanted to see you again."

"You haven't made much of an effort to see me before today," he spoke honestly.

"I apologize," she frowned, unsure of what more to say, realizing how her actions could appear thoughtless.

"I'm to the point now that I don't know whether you want me to call you or not, because I don't know if you are actually interested or if you are politely waiting for me to get the hint."

She looked down at the table, not knowing how to process Grayson's bluntness or how to mix that with the way she felt about seeing him again today. She looked up into his deep blue eyes, noting that there was a trace of pain and mystery behind them, then she realized she felt the same butterflies in her stomach as she did the first time she met him.

The waitress appeared suddenly and set their sushi platters in front of them then left without saying a word.

Grayson sighed, lining up his chopsticks on the table so they were perfectly even, looking back up at Rachel, "I'm sorry…."

"I'm sorry…," she said at the same time he did, causing them both to laugh.

"This is probably why I don't date much," the handsome blond admitted.

"No really, Grayson…I'm _very_ sorry."

Grayson could see the sincerity along with all the intensity that was ever-present in Rachel Berry's big, brown eyes.

"It's okay…want to start with a clean slate?" he offered, passing the soy sauce to her.

"Very much so," Rachel answered, her face showing relief as she poured some of the black liquid into a tiny bowl that sat near her plate.

They each used their wooden chopsticks to pick up a segment of their sushi rolls, dipping first into the soy sauce then putting it into their mouths.

Rachel finished chewing then took a sip of her water before saying, "I know this is no excuse for my behavior but…I've just sort of fallen into some bad habits, because I've become accustomed to dating a certain type of guy."

"You mean…theatre people?" he asked, trying to decipher.

"No…," she clarified, "…Jerks."

Grayson's eyes narrowed as he pondered that statement.

"I like that you're different," Rachel expanded for clarity.

Grayson smiled and looked down, "I'll take that as a compliment then."

Rachel laughed, "You should…definitely." She paused then added, "I loved my roses, by the way. It was a special surprise."

"Oh good," Grayson replied, feeling reassured that his gesture was appropriate, "I wanted them to be special…and worthy of a true star."

Rachel beamed at that sentiment, revealing coyly, "They're the only bouquet I took home with me that night."

Grayson looked up from his plate. As his eyes scanned Rachel's face, he felt his heart flutter. He took a calming breath and smiled back at her.

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday, August 6, 2022<strong>

**1:36PM**

Brittany was in the girls' dressing room Saturday, putting on her stage make-up for the matinee performance, when she heard Eva Navarro shout, "Austin! You can't be in here…we're changing clothes!"

"Oh please, honey…there's nothing in here that interests me," Austin Royle retorted as he passed through the group of female dancers without even a side-glance, walking up to Brittany and sitting in the empty chair next to her station, "Oh my god, Britt…we went out again last night."

"Who?" Brittany asked in confusion.

"Prince Charming," Austin reminded her, his excitement overflowing, "…from the dance floor?"

"Ohhh…Lover Boy?" she giggled, never one to take Austin's fleeting romances seriously.

"Yes! It's now _officially_ official…I am in love, Britt," Austin practically melted into his best friend.

"Ok, so tell me about him," Brittany could sense a difference in Austin this time around.

"He's perfectly wonderful…tall, handsome…muscles like you would not believe," Austin detailed with descriptive hand gestures, "He's sort of quiet and mysterious which intrigues me, you know."

"So he let you do all the talking?" Brittany affectionately jabbed at her old friend.

"Exactly! You know I love that," he replied in turn, "More than that though, he was a real gentleman…very polite. He held the door for me. _He_ paid for dinner…at a very nice restaurant, I might add."

"Oh, he has a job then?" Brittany interjected.

"Yes, he has a job," Austin balked, "An actual, professional job at that…something involving sports…or advertising…or something boring like that."

Brittany smiled, stating, "That's better than most of the guys you date."

"Ok, true," he smirked, adding, "Oh and get this…he loves musical theatre. He named off a whole list of shows he's seen since living in Manhattan."

"That's great…get him to come to the show."

"I maybe didn't mention the show to him yet," Austin bit his bottom lip.

"Why not?" Brittany grimaced slightly.

Austin shrugged, "I just was enjoying talking to him. I felt like an adult for the first time last night…like maybe this could actually lead somewhere. I didn't want him to think I was just some chorus dancer looking for another fuck."

"I guess I can understand that. I know it's sort of different for gay guys than it is for us girls," Brittany put a supportive hand on Austin's forearm, "Look, if you're happy then I'm happy."

He smiled and put his hand over hers, "I know it's just been two dates…but I'm happy."

"Then when do I get to meet him? Cause you know I still have to give my approval before you plan the wedding," Brittany winked.

"Soon, I hope…a double date perhaps?" he suggested.

"Austin Royle! Out!" Dominic Serra yelled from the doorway of the dressing room, "Now!"

"Shit! Gotta go," he stood quickly to leave, saying back over his shoulder, "I'll ask him about us all getting together next weekend!"

* * *

><p><strong>Friday, August 12, 2022<strong>

**10:14 AM**

"Santana Lopez-Pierce," a stocky nurse called out.

Santana looked to her left and saw Brittany smile at her then they both stood and walked toward the nurse. The couple followed her until she stopped at a cut out in the wall where there was a small room.

"Step up here and let's get your weight," the straightforward nurse pointed to a scale.

Santana handed Brittany her bag then stepped onto the electronically-calculated scale, grimacing when she saw that she had actually lost weight since she was weighed two weeks earlier at her final appointment with Dr. Le.

The nurse wrote it down in the chart in her hand then motioned to a nearby chair, "Sit so we can check your blood pressure."

Santana sat down as the nurse fitted her with the black cuff that automatically inflated. Once it beeped that it was finished, the nurse wrote down that number as well as her temperature before removing the cuff.

"Follow me," she told them, leading them into an empty exam room and saying, "Disrobe and put this on please. The doctor will be in shortly."

Once the nurse closed the door, Santana picked up the paper gown off the exam table and quipped to her wife, "I have stripped down for doctors more in the last few months than I have for you."

Brittany chuckled, responding, "Hey, at least I get to watch this time."

Santana gave her a look as she stepped out of her shorts and handed them to the blonde. "There is nothing sexy about an exam room."

"Oh, I don't know…I've always liked when we've played naughty nurse and patient," Brittany winked knowingly.

Santana put on the gown as instructed and handed the rest of her garments to her wife, a sultry smirk crossing her lips as she leaned over and said in a low voice, "Well, maybe then we need to schedule an appointment…soon."

There was a sudden knock that startled the girls, causing them to giggle as the door opened and a tall, brunette woman walked into the room in light blue scrubs with a brown file folder in her hand, "Santana?"

"Uh yes," the Latina stood upright quickly, "Hi."

"Hi," the doctor replied with a friendly smile, "I'm Samantha Yates."

"This is my wife, Brittany," Santana introduced.

"Hi, Brittany," Dr. Yates greeted then said, "Santana, why don't you hop up here and let's chat first."

Santana climbed up on the elevated exam table while Dr. Yates sat on her shorter rolling stool, crossing her left leg over her other so she could prop Santana's medical chart in front of her.

"How have you been feeling so far?" the doctor asked as she scanned down the sheet in front of her.

"Pretty good, I guess," she answered with a slight shrug.

"I see this is your first pregnancy," Dr. Yates commented, "Any morning sickness yet?"

"More like all day sickness," Santana retorted, looking over at Brittany who gave her a sympathetic frown.

The doctor laughed, "Yes, well that is to be expected in the first trimester. I see here that your weight went down since your last appointment with Dr. Le." Dr. Yates looked up from the chart, "We need to get you to eat more."

"Nothing smells or tastes good," Santana stated, "Even things I used to love."

"Strange things happen during pregnancy…smells become intensified…taste buds alter…cravings set in," Dr. Yates described, "Did Dr. Le's office give you a list of foods to avoid while you're pregnant?"

"Yes, I've cut out alcohol, caffeine, fish, deli meat…salad bars," she listed, "Those things pretty much made up my entire diet before I was pregnant."

"Well, just find something that stays down and eat more of it, okay?" the doctor patted Santana's knee, turning to Brittany with a smile, "Your job is to make sure she eats and starts gaining weight."

"I will," Brittany vowed, knowing she'd been trying.

"It's very important for development of the fetus," the doctor turned back toward Santana, "You've been taking your pre-natal vitamins, correct?"

"Definitely," Santana answered, "I've still just been so tired lately. It's like I can't get enough rest even though I sleep all the time."

"After we're done here, I'm going to send you over to have some blood drawn," Dr. Yates instructed, "It sounds like you might be anemic. If you test positive then we can add an additional iron supplement to help you feel better."

Santana nodded as the doctor scanned the remaining pages in her chart.

"When I reviewed your records that Dr. Le's office sent over, I saw that you had several unsuccessful cycles before this last one…due to a damaged fallopian tube…," the doctor flipped back a page in her notes to continue her statement, "…stemming from an infection you had when you were younger?"

Santana looked over at Brittany who smiled encouragingly, telling her doctor, "That's correct…I have some vaginal scar tissue too from the same incident."

"Incident?" Dr. Yates probed.

The Latina looked down at her hands which were folded in her lap before looking back over at Brittany.

The doctor observed the anxiety that passed between the couple, saying gently, "Santana?"

The attractive brunette swallowed then revealed to her doctor, "I was raped when I was seventeen. I was in the hospital for a week afterwards because of how severe the infection was from the tearing."

Dr. Yates gave her a sympathetic look, saying, "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"That's not going to cause a problem with her giving birth, is it?" Brittany asked with concern.

"We'll definitely check everything thoroughly and make an informed decision about whether to proceed with a vaginal birth or schedule a C-section," Dr. Yates answered the worried blonde, "Don't worry though…I assure you we will err on the side of caution, Brittany. We won't do anything that will put your wife or your child at risk, ok?"

Brittany nodded and sighed heavily.

"Now, let's regroup and focus on the positive," the doctor said with an upbeat tone, "Santana, lay back, and we'll do the part that's always fun for parents."

The doctor turned toward the counter and pulled out a hand-held machine from the drawer. Once Santana was flat, Dr. Yates moved a portion of the Latina's gown and told her, "This will feel a bit cold and gooey."

She squirted some blue gel onto the lower portion of Santana's abdomen then placed the wand that was attached to the machine in the same location, moving it around until there was a distinct thumping sound.

Brittany stood up and moved to the other side of the exam table, grabbing Santana's hand and smiling uncontrollably. The couple had heard the heartbeat of their child growing inside Santana a couple of times already, but each time it just seemed to get stronger and louder and made the entire experience that much more real for them.

"That's still amazing," Brittany said with awe, leaning down to kiss her wife.

Dr. Yates smiled at the couple, telling them, "This is always cool too…listen." She moved the wand up a little on Santana's torso until there was the sound of two heartbeats overlapping, identifying for them, "Yours with your baby's…beating together."

Santana's breath caught in her chest, and she felt tears filling her eyes as she listened. This was all she'd ever wanted…to be married to the woman she'd loved for a lifetime and to carry their child. This moment meant everything to her.

The brunette looked up into Brittany's blue eyes and saw the same emotion there. She felt a tear escape and roll down her face as she smiled at the blonde.

Brittany squeezed Santana's hand tightly, pulling it up to her lips and kissing it, reminding her, "I love you so much, honey."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Thanks for continuing to read this story. If you enjoyed this chapter, please review and tell me. If you have questions or need clarity, feel free to ask those things too!


	7. I Got a Hole In Me Now

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 7)**

_I remember when, I remember_

_I remember when I lost my mind_

_There was something so pleasant about that place_

_Even your emotions have an echo in so much space…_

_And when you're out there without care_

_Yeah, I was out of touch_

_But it wasn't because I didn't know enough,_

_I just knew too much…_

_Does that make me crazy?_

_Does that make me crazy?_

_Does that make me crazy?_

_Possibly…_

_And I hope that you are_

_Having the time of your life_

_But think twice_

_That's my only advice…_

_Come on now, who do you_

_Who do you, who do you think you are?_

_Ha Ha Ha, bless your soul_

_You really think you're in control?_

_Well, I think you're crazy_

_I think you're crazy_

_I think you're crazy_

_Just like me…._

(Crazy ~ Gnarls Barkley)

**Saturday, August 13, 2022**

**6:58 AM**

Brittany woke up Saturday morning to the sound of retching coming from somewhere nearby. The sun was not even bright enough yet to light the small West Village apartment, so when she opened her eyes all the way, what caught her attention was the narrow strip of bright, artificial light showing at the bottom of the bathroom door.

Even in her barely-awake haze, Brittany knew the sound she heard was Santana suffering another bout of morning sickness. Santana's nausea had become so unpredictable at this point in her first trimester, particularly during the night, that she had taken to sleeping on the outer portion of their bed even though she was usually already asleep when Brittany came in from the show each night.

It did feel a bit weird to the blonde dancer to sleep on the opposite side than she was accustomed, but her new routine over the last two weeks was simply to come in, wash up and brush her teeth as quietly as possible, pee, and then crawl gently over Santana, sliding up under the covers and kissing the Latina lightly on the cheek before wrapping her left arm around her and instantly succumbing to exhaustion.

Brittany sat up and yawned, looking over at the clock to see the time. She slid to the edge of the double bed and padded across the wood floor in her bare feet then knocked softly on the closed door.

"You okay, honey?" she asked.

"Yeah," Santana answered weakly.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

Brittany turned the knob and slowly opened the door to the small space, not knowing exactly where her wife was located. The door creaked as it typically did while opening, and Brittany pushed it all the way opened, narrowly missing Santana who was leaned back against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms folded over the top of them with her head resting.

"Can I get you anything? Water?" Brittany asked sweetly.

"A bullet to the head?" Santana retorted without raising up, her voice echoing between her legs, "Please? Just make it quick and painless."

Brittany choked back a giggle at her wife's dramatic side, picking up a plastic cup from the back portion of the stand-alone sink, rinsing it first before filling it with cold water from the faucet, and kneeling next to Santana.

"Let's try some cold water first?" Brittany handed the brunette the cup, caressing the back of her head to encourage her to lift it and take a sip, "If this fails _then_ we'll consider more drastic measures."

Santana lifted her throbbing head and let a sip of the cool water ease down the back of her burning throat. She'd thrown up so many times in the last few days that the muscles along her sides ached. She took another sip, careful not to drink too much, hoping to thwart inevitable disaster.

The brunette handed the cup back to her wife and gave her a small pout, announcing, "Being pregnant sucks."

Brittany couldn't help but laugh, sitting flat to the floor and pulling Santana over onto her, "I'm sorry, honey…I would totally take on this part for you if I could."

"I would totally let you if _I_ could," Santana quipped, moaning slightly into Brittany's lap, "At least part of it anyway."

"I know, sweetie," Brittany leaned down, moving aside some of Santana's long hair and kissing her cheekbone, "Just know that I appreciate every horrible moment you suffer through to carry our baby."

"It's all worth it…I just wish we could fast forward through this part," Santana lamented.

"Just two more weeks until you're out of the first trimester…," the blonde encouraged, "…and remember that Quinn said it starts getting better."

"_Slowly_ getting better is what she said," Santana remembered every detail of Quinn's statement, down to the inflection in her voice and the grimace on her face.

"You can do this. You've been through tougher things than this," Brittany recalled before she really thought about her statement.

There was a notable pause from Santana before Brittany heard her respond, "Yeah."

"Hey," Brittany lifted Santana back to an upright position, looking into her brown eyes, "All I meant was…you have proven again and again how truly strong you are. Right?"

Santana nodded.

"Right?" the blonde pushed, smiling reassuringly at her wife.

"Right," Santana agreed, forcing a smile.

"Ok then…do you feel like you can come back to bed?" Brittany asked.

"I think so," the Latina noted that the water had stayed down and her stomach felt calm at the moment.

Brittany stood then reached out her arm to pull Santana to a standing position, "Good."

The couple made their way back over to their bed where Brittany crawled across the mattress and patted the empty space to her right, waiting for Santana to get comfortable on her side before Brittany spooned up behind her and wrapped her arms tightly around her as they both fell back to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>3:10 PM<strong>

Santana was glad she and Brittany were both able to fall back asleep and rest for a couple of more hours until the alarm went off at nine thirty. Once Brittany got showered and left for the matinee performance, Santana decided she felt decent enough to get dressed and leave the apartment for a few simple errands.

She dropped off a few things at the dry cleaners around the corner before walking up Bleeker to the nearby CVS pharmacy where she picked up her prescription for the iron supplement Dr. Yates wanted her to start to help with her anemia.

Santana was less than enthused about adding another pill to her regiment. She already hated taking her pre-natal vitamin because not only was it huge and hard to swallow but it also had the nasty side-effect of tasting like burnt popcorn every time she belched…which was a lot recently…so she also grabbed another large bottle of fruit flavored antacid tablets and a box of saltines.

After she got the battery in her favorite watch replaced at the jewelry shop, she rounded the corner and noticed something she had failed to notice the last few weeks…a pleasant smell. It smelled like fresh bread baking, and she looked across the side street toward a popular neighborhood bakery. _Mmm, fresh bread_, she thought…_that actually sounds good_.

The dark-haired beauty looked to her left to assure there was no car coming then crossed the street and walked a portion of the block up to the bakery's entry. The woman she knew as one of the co-owners was at the shop's big picture window, setting some of the hot loaves in the front display. The woman smiled at her and motioned her in, and as Santana entered, a little gold bell rang at the top of the door.

"Hello," the shop owner said pleasantly in her thick French accent.

"Hi," Santana smiled at her, looking at the lit case of French pastries, "They all look so good."

"I just put out fresh baguettes…," the woman told her, wiping her hands on a thick white cloth, "…and I have a batch of croissants coming out of the oven in four minutes."

"Ok, I'll take one when they're ready," Santana replied excitedly, "And will you slice a baguette for me to take home?"

"Certainly," the older French woman said as she pulled a light brown loaf from a wicker basket and moved toward the back counter to send it through the silver slicer, telling Santana, "Let me check on those croissants."

The Latina was bent over looking at the Napoleons, contemplating whether her stomach could handle something sweet, when she heard the bell on the door ring again as it opened. The ringing was followed shortly by the statement, "Ohh, it smells soooo good in here."

Another voice replied, "Wait until you try their chocolate croissants."

Santana took that as her cue to move out from in front of the display counter for the other patrons to see what was available. As she straightened up, she looked back over her left shoulder and smiled at the two girls who had their arms linked, smiling sweetly at each other.

When the one standing nearest her turned her head, Santana's face froze, her eyes locking with the familiar blue eyes of Cate Boyd.

Neither of them said a word, but time screeched to a halt inside the small bakery until Cate broke eye contact and looked at the younger girl with her, handing her some cash she pulled from her jeans pocket, "Sweetie, do you want to get us some coffee from Starbucks?"

The girl seemed a bit confused, but agreed good-naturedly while taking the cash, "Sure…meet you out front?"

"Be down there in a few minutes," Cate smiled as she watched her go then turned back around after the door closed and looked at Santana.

"How are you?" Santana asked hesitantly.

Cate took a deep breath before speaking emphatically, "Good…yourself?"

"Good, thanks," the younger brunette replied, inquiring further, "Are you here visiting?"

Cate shook her head, "No, I've lived in the City for a couple of years."

"Oh? Around here?" Santana's surprise showed.

"Well, I'm new to the West Village…I just moved in with Jess a few weeks ago."

"Britt and I live on the next street over," she told the older girl.

"I'm glad to hear you two are still together," Cate smiled sincerely.

The shop owner returned from the kitchen with a tray of the hot croissants, sliding them into place in the display case then taking one and putting it into a brown bag. As she moved to collect the sliced baguette for Santana, putting it in a clear, plastic bag, the Latina turned back toward her old friend and stated, "I'm sorry this is so awkward. I'm really glad to run into you though, because I've thought a lot about you over the years."

Cate nodded, "It's okay…it's probably my fault. I'm glad to see you are well, Santana. You haven't changed a bit."

"Neither have you," Santana assured her, noting that Cate's hair was shorter but otherwise she looked basically the same.

"Thanks," Cate said then looked back over at the bakery owner.

Santana paid for her bread and waited for Cate to tell the woman what she wanted before she said, "Aren't you even curious as to how she's doing?"

Cate looked down after handing the woman some cash. Santana could tell the older brunette was pondering the appropriate response before she finally said firmly, "No."

Santana's heart dropped for Quinn, knowing how desperately her best friend wanted to reconnect with her lost love.

"Take care, Cate," Santana told the older girl as she walked past her and out the bakery door.

Cate Boyd's mind flashed back to several years earlier and to memories of a beautiful, young blonde with green eyes, whom she loved more than anyone else in the world. Those memories shook her entire body, because even though they were repressed, they were never very far below the surface.

"Miss?" the French bakery owner prompted.

When Cate's mind reset itself to the present, she looked up to see the woman handing her a bag with her pastries.

"Thank you," she smiled and took the bag, turning to leave.

The tall brunette stepped out onto the active Manhattan sidewalk, brushing past a group of people who were walking in the opposite direction. A second later, she heard her name called, causing her to stop and turn around.

"Cate!" Santana repeated as she caught up to the older girl, "Listen…I know you've moved on, but…."

"Don't, Santana," Cate said calmly, but her light blue eyes pleaded with the young Latina, "You have no idea how long it's taken me to get over her."

Santana took Cate's hand and turned it over, putting a torn piece of paper in her palm and closing her fingers, "I might never run into you again, and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't give you this."

Cate sighed heavily, and Santana could sense the taller girl wished she were anywhere but standing there at that moment.

"Tell Brittany I said hi," Cate said as she turned and walked up the sidewalk toward the Starbuck's on the corner.

"We all make mistakes, Cate!" Santana yelled after her, "Sometimes we just need one chance to make things right again!"

Cate Boyd kept walking, the bakery bag crinkling in her left hand as she pulled her right hand up and looked at the piece of white paper that had Quinn Fabray's phone number written on it. Cate's breath caught in her throat at the sight of her ex-girlfriend's name, but she swallowed hard, wadding up the paper and stuffing it into the front pocket of her faded jeans.

* * *

><p><strong>4:24 PM<strong>

Santana slowly made her way up the six flights of stairs to apartment #6C, taking another bite of her buttery croissant, relishing how good it tasted. She was lost in thought of whether she should or shouldn't tell Quinn she saw Cate this afternoon.

_Would it make it worse_? Santana internally pondered…or _would knowing Cate was doing well ease Quinn's mind_?

"Hey, you," a deep voice shook her from her inner discourse, and she looked up to see Grayson coming out of his apartment.

"Hey," she smiled at him, commenting on his attire, "You look nice…going somewhere special?"

"As a matter of fact…I am," he locked his door and stuffed his keys into the side pocket of his tan-colored pants.

"Ohhh? Is it a date?"

"Maybe," he blushed slightly when he smiled, his dimples showing.

"Would it be with my sister perhaps?" Santana ventured, knowing Rachel had not stopped talking about Grayson over the past two weeks.

"Perhaps," he winked, looking down at his watch, "I'm meeting her for a quick dinner between performances."

"That's quite a hike to Midtown for just a quick dinner…," she teased.

"Well…the company's worth it," he said as he passed her up, stepping down a few stairs.

"Grayson Knox…I think you are rather smitten," she told him.

"Maybe," he flashed her another smile before running down the staircase, "Gotta run!"

Santana chuckled under her breath as she moved up the remaining flight of stairs and unlocked her front door. She went inside and set down her handbag then hung up her keys on the hook near the door before putting the loaf of bread on the kitchen table.

The brunette stepped over to the bedroom and took off her shoes, pulling out the drawer on her nightstand. She took out her spiral notebook that read Pregnancy Journal across the front of it and walked back over to the couch with it and the rest of her croissant in hand.

After Santana lifted up the window to release some of the warm, afternoon air, she sat cross-legged in the middle of the lumpy, brown couch. She took another big bite of her bread and pulled her black pen from the spiral ring of the notebook, turning to August 13th and writing in big block letters TODAY I ATE!

She laughed at herself and how giddy she felt over such a small accomplishment. She flipped through to the back of the binder as she chewed her last bite, finding several folded pages of paper that she had stuffed in the back pocket at some point. Pulling them out, she flipped through them casually, realizing they were part of a packet she and Brittany had received from the sperm bank as part of the profile on their anonymous donor.

The decision for them to use an unknown donor was not a difficult one for the couple. Santana had explored several options when she started doing research on getting pregnant, and she knew she did not want a "third wheel", as she termed it, to be part of their family.

It was difficult enough to be in a same-sex marriage and all that went with nature reminding them that there was no logistical method of combining her and Brittany's genes the way a traditional couple could. Santana knew she did not want Brittany to ever feel subordinate to a biological "father"…or a male who might decide to push for that recognition.

In fact, it was important to Santana that nobody ever refer to anyone as the father of their baby, and to make sure of that, she suggested the anonymous donor route.

The couple had the highest of standards on the donor's physical, mental, and emotional health. Brittany insisted on high intelligence, not wanting their child to struggle in school like she had, and Santana insisted on narrowing down the choices further by picking a donor with the same physical attributes as Brittany. Once they had the list down to four candidates, she and Brittany pulled out the two with artistic qualities like they had then requested detailed profile summaries.

The profile in her hand was the donor the couple ultimately picked. Donor #1630.

Santana looked over the pages again, having most of the information memorized at this point in their fertility journey. The last page had the donor's handwritten answers to several posed questions. Santana smiled to herself when she remembered that Brittany instantly thought he had very nice penmanship.

As she scanned the written answers on the last page, she got to the final question: What made you want to be a donor?

One would think that was a straightforward question, but Santana distinctly remembered the answer on the other donor's profile. That donor seemed like a nice person, but the answer "because it pays well" left a foul taste in her mouth. _What an ass_, Santana remembered saying to Brittany. That answer basically summed up everything the Latina had ever felt about the guys she'd dated before embracing the fact that she was a lesbian.

Santana smiled though when she read Donor #1630's answer to the final question, remembering how touching it was to her and to her wife.

His answer read: If you are reading this then you must want a child very much. If my donation helps you achieve that then I will be very happy, because all children should be this wanted.

After reading that response together the first time, Santana looked at Brittany who responded simply, "Yep…he's the right one."

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, August 15, 2022<strong>

**7:37 PM**

"I hate that we're always late," Santana said to Brittany as they sat in the backseat of a NYC taxi.

"Don't worry, Tan…we live in New York," Brittany calmly rubbed her wife's thigh, knowing it always soothed her, "It's expected."

"Well, they're your friends…if you don't care then I don't care," Santana retorted, unsure as to why she felt edgy this evening.

"Austin will understand," she assured Santana, "Ten bucks says he's not even there yet himself."

With that statement, the phone in Brittany's hand buzzed with a text from Austin that said: Where are you? They just seated us at the table.

"Austin," Brittany grimaced toward Santana, typing him back a quick message: order wine…we're almost there!

"See, told you," Santana rolled her eyes as she read the lit screen of Brittany's phone.

Brittany leaned over and kissed her wife on the side of her head, saying softly to her, "Settle down, honey."

"Sorry," Santana smiled at the blonde and took a deep breath, choking suddenly on the array of smells floating around inside the confined interior of the cab.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asked her.

"Yeah, sorry," Santana swallowed hard, praying silently to any deity listening to please make the restaurant instantly appear, "So what's this other guy's name?"

"Austin said his first name is Mitchell…," Brittany answered, "…but I think he said he goes by Mitch."

Santana's prayer must have worked, because a minute later, the cab driver pulled over to the curb in front of an Italian restaurant, and the brunette wasted no time pushing out of the cab behind her wife to breathe in some semi-fresh August night air.

"Do I look okay?" Santana asked Brittany as they walked hand-in-hand toward the door of the restaurant, pulling slightly on the skirt of her dress with her free hand.

Brittany paused on the sidewalk near the metal pole of the restaurant's awning and looked at Santana, smiling widely and thinking how adorable it was that a woman as gorgeous as Santana was always slightly nervous about her appearance.

The tall blonde reached up and ran a soft touch down her wife's jawline, "You look as beautiful as ever. I love when you wear your hair pulled up."

Santana smiled, immediately eased by the look on her wife's face, telling her, "I know…that's why I put it up tonight."

Brittany chuckled, leaning into Santana and whispering, "You know that the sight of your neck makes me want to do naughty things to you, right?"

Santana smirked, retorting, "Hopefully this will be a short dinner then."

Brittany smirked back, reaching for the oversized handle on the front door, confirming, "We'll make sure it is."

The couple giggled at each other as they stepped into the entryway of the restaurant, telling the Maître d' that they were meeting the rest of their party who had already been seated.

"Ahh, yes…right this way," the older gentleman said to them, leading the girls toward the back of the half-full restaurant.

"Here we are," the tall man told them as he stopped and shifted his body to motion them to the table where Austin and his date sat close together, sharing a laugh.

Austin looked up and smiled, standing to greet his best friend.

Brittany returned the smile, pulling back one of the two remaining chairs for Santana, looking back at her when she didn't move to sit down. The blonde heard Austin in the background as he introduced his friends "Brittany, and her wife, Santana," but her main focus was the stunned look on her wife's face.

"Santana?" Brittany verbally nudged.

Santana did not move, completely immobilized, as if she were frozen in place and time. Brittany turned her head to follow Santana's gaze, seeing David Karofsky sitting there at their table.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I hope you all enjoyed the twists and turns in this chapter. I got a great chuckle at some of your comments after chapter 6. Some of you guys are too smart for your own good! I'll have to be a bit more clever next time to stay ahead of y'all. Challenge accepted! :)


	8. I Got a Scar I Can Talk About

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 8)**

_Forgive, sounds good_

_Forget, I'm not sure I could_

_They say time heals everything,_

_But I'm still waiting…_

_I'm through with doubt_

_There's nothing left for me to figure out_

_I've paid a price,_

_And I'll keep paying…_

_I'm not ready to make nice_

_I'm not ready to back down_

_I'm still mad as hell, and I don't have time_

_To go round and round and round…_

_It's too late to make it right_

_Probably wouldn't if I could,_

_Cause I'm mad as hell, can't bring myself_

_To do what it is you think I should…._

(Not Ready To Make Nice ~ Dixie Chicks)

**Monday, August 15, 2022**

**7:46 PM**

Santana Lopez-Pierce followed behind her wife as they were guided through the low-lit Italian restaurant by the Maître d', until they arrived at the table where Austin Royle and his date sat engrossed in conversation.

She paused to allow Brittany to pull out a chair for her, looking down at Austin's dinner guest and seeing the worst part of her past looking back at her.

"Santana?" she heard Brittany say to her, but her wife's words didn't register through the intensity of emotion filling Santana's head at the sight of the man who raped her.

Brittany looked over her shoulder at Santana, finding she had a focused expression of panic. The brunette literally looked like she was staring into the face of a ghost. When the blonde looked back toward the table, she saw David Karofsky sitting there with a similar look of astonishment.

Austin unknowingly interrupted the intense reunion, saying to Brittany as he pulled her into a friendly hug, "Ladies, sit down. I'm going to pass out from hunger if we don't order soon."

Finally breaking eye contact with Karofsky, Santana looked toward Brittany who shook her head, her blue eyes expressing_ let's leave now_. Santana sat down though, guided by something internal, not wanting to exit in defeat.

Brittany swallowed hard and helped Santana by pushing in her chair, hating that her love had to sit next to Karofsky while she took the seat next to Austin.

"So Brittany…Santana…this is Mitch Resnik," Austin enthusiastically introduced his date, putting his hand over Karofsky's hand which was propped on the table, holding tightly to the stem of his wine glass.

There was an awkward silence as all three of them stared at each other, broken only by a well-timed waiter who appeared.

"Wine, Miss?"

"Please," Brittany replied with a hint of desperation in her voice, her skin tingling with disgust for the man sitting across the table. Everything inside her was extremely heightened at the moment as her internal instincts of wanting to protect her wife and their child battled fiercely with needing to follow Santana's lead. She pushed her glass toward the waiter, adding, "Fill it all the way."

"Yes, ma'am," the waiter smiled as he pulled the wine bottle from the center of the square table and filled her wine glass nearly to the top with a deep red liquid.

"For you, Miss?" he asked across the table to Santana.

"No, thank you," she responded softly, swallowing hard and trying to take calm, even breaths, "Water will be fine."

Brittany took a long sip of her wine, hoping it would calm her, not knowing exactly why they willingly sat down to participate in this train wreck of an evening.

"Isn't this cabernet smooth?" Austin said as he held up his glass, smiling at Brittany then over at David, "Mitch ordered it…he knows a lot about wine."

"Yeah, it's awesome," Brittany snipped as she rolled her eyes and took another sip, further suggesting, "It's also awesome of _Mitch_ to pay for everybody tonight."

Karofsky choked slightly on his swallow of wine as Austin laughed, thinking Brittany was joking, seemingly oblivious to the mounting tension hanging over the table.

"Have you guys ever been here before?" Austin asked as he read over his menu.

"No," Brittany clipped, continuing to drink her wine, staring across the table at David who was now avoiding eye contact with the girls.

"It's Mitch's favorite," Austin looked up at Karofsky and practically swooned, "He loves Italian food."

Brittany felt her stomach turn at how head over heels her best friend was with Karofsky, and she watched Dave as he shifted nervously in his seat and flipped a page in his menu without responding.

"So…_Mitch_," Brittany started, setting her wine glass back on the table, "Tell us about yourself…."

Karofsky looked up at her, more unnerved at the impending conversation than he felt when he first saw Santana and Brittany standing at the table.

Santana's head turned quickly to look at her wife, picking up the bread basket and setting it on top of the blonde's menu, "Here, sweetheart…have some bread with your wine."

"I'm good, thanks," Brittany forced a smile toward Santana and set the basket back in the center of the table, "Are you from New York originally?"

He cleared his throat and said softly, "Uhh, no…I'm from Ohio."

"You didn't tell me that," Austin said with a dramatic gesture, "Brittany and Santana are from Ohio too."

"Small world…isn't it, _Mitch_," Brittany said sarcastically, taking another drink from her wine glass.

"Yeah, it is…," Karofsky retorted, a pained look on his face, "…and shrinking more and more by the minute."

Santana turned her attention to Dave Karofsky's face as he spoke to Brittany, noticing he had slimmed down in the past eleven years since she last saw him. He once was a hefty, brute of a teen on the William McKinley varsity football squad, but now, with his baby flab gone, he was quite lean with broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a very handsome face.

The fact that Dave Karofsky was out of prison was not the shocking part of seeing him again, since Santana received a parole notification from the Federal Correctional Institution's Parole Board four years ago, informing her that he was being released after serving eight of the twelve-year sentence he received for raping her.

According to the letter, "Mr. Karofsky" had been a "model prisoner" in the span of eight years, making him "an ideal candidate for early release." Just how Karofsky went from being Dave, an Ohio parolee, to Mitch, Prince Charming of Manhattan, was the part currently spinning around inside Santana's head.

The waiter appeared again to refill Brittany's wine glass, asking, "Are you ready to order?"

"Absolutely!" Austin said, ordering the pasta special with shrimp.

"For you, Miss?" the young man asked Brittany who was already taking another long sip of wine.

She picked up her menu and handed it to the waiter, "Nothing. I've lost my appetite."

Santana cleared her throat, realizing that her wife was pissed off and well on her way to being drunk, insisting, "She'll have the lasagna."

"And you?" he asked Santana.

Not having looked at the menu, she just picked an Italian standard, "The cheese ravioli please."

"Marinara or meat sauce?" the waiter specified.

"Marinara please," the brunette answered politely.

"Sir?" he asked Dave.

"Chicken piccata," he answered softly and handed over his menu without looking up.

"Very good," the waiter smiled and collected the remaining menus, "More wine too?"

"Yes …," Brittany replied at the same time Santana said loudly, "No…."

The waiter looked confused until Karofsky stated, "Yes, another bottle…please."

"I'll be right back with that," he told them.

As soon as the waiter walked away, Brittany started again, "You know, _Mitch_…you look familiar. Have we met before?"

Santana looked over at Brittany then put her hand over the blonde's and squeezed it.

David cleared his throat, and responded, "I think I just have one of those familiar faces."

"Yeah, maybe that's it," Brittany retorted, pushing further just to rattle him more, "You don't look much like a Mitch though…_if_ that's your real name."

Austin laughed again, thinking how quirky his dear friend could be. "Oh, Britt."

Santana nervously laughed too, subtly reaching to pull Brittany's wine glass away.

"No, seriously…is your name really Mitch…Resnik, was it?" Brittany restated, deadpanned, putting her hand on the stem of the glass to pull it back toward her.

David stared across the table at Brittany, his eyelids twitching.

Austin's laugh broke, and he looked at his blonde friend, "Of course that's his name, Britt."

"Mitchell is actually my middle name," David responded to the doubt in her question.

Brittany nodded, staring coldly across the table at him and picking up her glass for another calming sip of wine before asking bluntly, "So, Mitchell…have you ever been in prison?"

Santana and Karofsky both choked on their respective drinks.

"Brittany!" Austin let out an awkward laugh, thinking she was being protective of him, "Of course he hasn't…do you want him to submit financials and a blood sample too?"

"Excuse me…I need to go to the restroom," Santana said politely as she wiped her mouth with her napkin and pushed out her chair, "Britt, honey…will you please join me?"

"No, I'm good," the blonde replied, her hook firmly planted in David Karofsky, enjoying the sight of him having to squirm under her direct questions, "You go ahead."

"Brittany…sweetheart…," Santana said firmly, "Please?"

The tall dancer took a deep breath and set her cloth napkin on the table then stood and followed Santana toward the sign that read Restrooms.

As soon as Santana pushed through the door to the ladies room, she looked under the two stalls for feet then turned to face her wife who was right behind her, challenging her, "Oh my god…what are you doing?"

"Calling him out on his double life," she grimaced as if it were obvious.

"Britt…?" Santana shook her head, at a complete loss as to what to say to her wife.

"Why are we even still here?" Brittany asked, seeing the stress on Santana's face.

"I am _trying_ to be civilized."

"Why should we be civilized? He's a monster…who almost destroyed you. He doesn't deserve to sit in your presence!" Brittany raised her voice which vibrated in the small space.

Santana took in a deep breath of air, pausing. "Because Austin hasn't done anything wrong…," the brunette replied softly, "…and neither have we. Why should _I_ be the one to run out of here in shame?"

Brittany didn't say anything in response, folding her long arms and leaning back against the wall.

Santana eased her arms around Brittany's waist, telling her calmly, "Babe, you are drinking way too much wine, and you are making everyone uncomfortable."

"I want to smash his face in," she confessed with a harsh tone, her anger causing her to breathe heavily through her nose.

Santana hugged her wife, saying lovingly, "Then let's just leave, because I won't allow him to make you be somebody you're not."

"Austin deserves the full truth," Brittany snipped, her anger keeping her from relaxing under Santana's touch.

"Yes, but he deserves it from Karofsky...not some crazy, drunk, blonde woman," Santana smiled up at her which made Brittany laugh slightly.

"I am sort of drunk, huh?" Brittany admitted.

Santana laughed, "Yeah…a tad more than sort of." She hugged Brittany tightly, laying her head on the taller girl's chest, "I love you so much…and I love you even more for always looking out after me."

Brittany sighed and leaned her head against Santana's, "I guess this proves you can never fully forget the past."

"No…but having to look at us and see what he will probably never have is enough satisfaction for me," Santana revealed.

Brittany took a deep breath, realizing how well the years of therapy had helped Santana process what happened to her. Santana was scarred, but she was not broken any longer. Brittany also realized she herself wasn't to the point of forgiveness yet.

"I don't think I can go back to the table and play nice," Brittany confessed, biting at her bottom lip, "I'm sorry if that makes me weak."

"It's okay…and it doesn't make you weak…it makes you human," Santana reassured her with a small kiss, asking, "Should we ask for our food to be boxed up since you have Mitch paying the tab?"

Brittany laughed slightly, putting a mental check-mark in her win column, suggesting, "No…let's find our waiter and order everything on the menu then sneak out the back."

Santana shook her head, trying not to smile, advising, "Or…you can text Austin and tell him one of us isn't feeling well enough to return."

* * *

><p><strong>8:20 PM<strong>

The phone in Austin's pocket buzzed, and he reached in to pull it out, lighting the screen to read it. "Hmm…that's weird," he said aloud.

"What?" David Karofsky asked, still reeling from his unexpected encounter with Brittany S. Lopez-Pierce.

"They're leaving," Austin replied with confusion.

"Who?"

"Brittany and Santana," Austin stated, "Brittany feels sick she said."

Dave did not reply, experiencing an unusual mix of relief and distress, knowing they left because of him.

"Well, that explains maybe why she was acting so crazy tonight," Austin explained to his date, "I'm really sorry…she's not usually like that. She's usually so wonderful, and I was really looking forward to you meeting her."

"Yeah, I know…," Dave grimaced, remembering how excitedly Austin spoke about his best friend the last time they went out, insisting, "You never mentioned she was married though…to a woman…named Santana."

"Didn't I?" Austin reflected, "I guess I didn't…they are so adorable, aren't they? They've known each other their whole lives…I just think that is so amazingly romantic." Austin looked at Dave with sincerity in his hazel-colored eyes, "I want so much to find something like that."

The waiter appeared with a tray of food for the table, setting all the plates at the proper places.

"Oh…I'm sorry," Austin spoke up as he set down the girls' plates, "My friends had an emergency…would you just box their entrees please?"

"Sure," the young waiter replied, picking up the two plates and setting them back on his tray before he carried it toward the kitchen.

Austin picked up his fork and immediately took a big bite of his pasta, "Oh my god, this is so good."

David took a sip of his water without eating his chicken. He looked over at his date, remembering that he instantly found Austin attractive, and once they went out a couple of times, David found him equally charming and full of life. It was never his intention to harm or mislead Austin. He simply wanted a chance to start fresh.

"What's wrong?" Austin inquired, wiping at his mouth as he swallowed.

"Austin…," David started then paused.

"What?"

Karofsky sighed heavily. "I don't know why I ever thought I could just…start over."

Austin stopped mid-bite. "What do you mean?"

"You need to know something. My first name is David…my middle name is Mitchell…and I know Santana and Brittany from Lima, Ohio," he said slowly, the dredging of his past clearly hard for him, "We all went to high school together."

"What?" Austin shook his head, "That's so bizarre…why didn't any of you guys tell me?"

"I was a different person then…," he confessed, running out of words quickly.

Karofsky swallowed hard, trying to force moisture back into his dry mouth. He had worked so hard, both mentally and physically, to better himself while he was in prison.

He got his GED then took college courses through the prison and earned a marketing degree from Lima Community College. David worked with a counselor to push through his anger control issues and his self-hatred over his sexuality.

Once he was released on parole, he worked in Columbus for a year. After that went well, David applied to a new program being tested in the Federal parole system that allowed "well-qualified candidates" to transfer to other participating states to pursue professional job opportunities.

His sex-offender status would have been an automatic denial, his parole advisor revealed to him, but his age at the time of the offense together with his clean record in the nine years that followed were enough to edge him into the program.

Three months later, David found himself living in an apartment in Manhattan and working for the marketing department of the New York Knicks professional basketball team. He had been extremely careful about venturing out into the New York City nightlife until recently when he completed the program that officially ended his parole.

Prisoner 08122008 was now considered rehabilitated by the Federal Correctional System, and David Karofsky, taking on his mother's maiden name, was reborn as Mitchell Resnik.

"Mitch? What's going on here?" Austin was starting to panic, looking for any reassurance at all in his date's face.

David Karofsky did not know what more to say, feeling anything at this point would only destroy any chance he had with Austin. He stood and pulled out several bills from his wallet, throwing them down on the table to pay for dinner, saying in total defeat, "I'm so sorry, Austin…but you deserve someone much better than me."

Austin Royle set down his fork and watched his date walk out of the restaurant, leaving him alone at the table and in overwhelming confusion.

* * *

><p><strong>8:50 PM<strong>

Santana pushed her house key into the lock on apartment #6C then opened the door for her and Brittany.

"Okay, babe…take a seat," Santana pulled her wife toward their small living room, nudging her down onto to the couch, "We need to get you something to eat."

"I'm fine, Tan…," Brittany insisted, but the slur of her words betrayed her.

Santana took a glass from the kitchen cabinet and filled it with cold tap water. She then walked to the bathroom and pulled a bottle of Advil from the medicine cabinet, walking back over to the couch and handing the glass of water to Brittany.

"Here," she told the blonde, popping off the bottle's top and shaking out two tablets into her hand, "Take these…you'll need them when those tannins hit."

Brittany did as instructed and swallowed the pills, "Thanks." She took another long drink of the cool water then handed the glass back to the brunette who set it on the coffee table.

Santana sat on the floor between the couch and the small table and took off Brittany's shoes then began to massage her bare feet, kissing the tops of them sweetly.

"That feels _really_ good," Brittany told her, sitting on the couch with her head resting back on one of its over-sized cushions.

"We have to keep these feet in top working condition," Santana kissed them again, "since they are our only source of income lately."

Brittany laughed, "They are very…_very_…tired and achy lately."

"I know, babe…and I appreciate all you do for us," the brunette smiled, "so I want to take care of all your aches."

"_All_ of my aches?" Brittany smirked, lifting her head to look down at Santana, her movements somewhat sloppy from the wine.

The Latina pulled herself up to her knees, leaning forward on Brittany's thighs, "Well…where exactly are you aching?"

"In a place only you can alleviate," Brittany tried to say, but the word alleviate came out like a hybrid sound a toddler would make. The blonde sat up and leaned in to kiss her wife firmly on the lips, laughing slightly when their front teeth clanked.

"You're drunk," Santana smiled into the kiss.

"Just because I'm drunk doesn't mean I'm not horny," Brittany slipped her hands under Santana's arms and pulled her up on top of her, kissing her harder.

"We have both been preoccupied lately, haven't we?" Santana broke for air and admitted, missing the passion she typically shared with her wife.

Brittany didn't respond verbally but ran her hands over Santana's shapely backside and up her back, rubbing the smooth skin of her shoulders that was exposed at the top of her dress. She then lowered her mouth on the brunette's neck which she'd been eying earlier in the evening, sucking gently below Santana's right ear.

Santana moaned, moving her hands up to the blonde's jawline, pulling her into a deeper kiss and slipping her tongue into Brittany's mouth.

The two of them stretched out further on the couch and continued to kiss, their hands exploring each other's bodies, reconnecting their souls.

"I _need_ you to touch me," Brittany confessed breathlessly, adding, "Please?"

Santana whispered, "Of course, my love," as she shifted her body toward the back of the couch so she could unbutton and unzip the top of Brittany's pants then slide her hand down inside her underwear. The Latina smiled when she discovered how wet Brittany already was, pushing apart the blonde's thighs with her knee and slipping her middle finger between her folds.

Brittany took in a deep breath of air as she felt Santana's finger move up and down then start rubbing her skillfully. A loud moan escaped from her throat, her ache stronger than she previously thought. "Oh yesss, right there," she confirmed.

"Feels good, doesn't it, sweetheart," Santana asked with a sultry tone to her voice, continuing to rub consistently on Brittany's throbbing clit.

"Uhuh," she assured her, closing her eyes and tilting her head back further, enjoying the intensity that was building between her thighs.

Santana watched her wife's face as she pleasured her. It was clear that Brittany was savoring the focused attention she was getting, devoid of other distracting sensations or mutual stimulation. In this moment, it was simply Santana meeting Brittany's most basic need.

The Latina's eyes scanned every inch, every feature, of Brittany's face, from the light brown of her brows to the long, angled ridge of her prominent nose to the sprinkle of freckles scattered across her very familiar face. Santana watched as the skin between Brittany's brows wrinkled then smoothed then wrinkled again as the blonde's expressions oscillated from concentration to ecstasy under Santana's touch.

The love for this woman that Santana felt was way beyond physical or even emotional. Her love for Brittany surpassed any words she could verbalize. It existed in another realm where they synchronized as one entity, and to watch Brittany in a complete state of euphoria and vulnerability overwhelmed Santana's senses, bringing tears to her eyes.

It wasn't but a moment longer and Brittany's body went taut under Santana as electricity shot through her entire body, Brittany's orgasm shaking her all the way down to her toes.

Once Brittany stilled, Santana pulled her hand out of the blonde's pants, wiping it subtly on Brittany's abdomen, before she wrapped her arms tightly around her, telling her, "Do you know how truly beautiful you are?"

Brittany squeezed Santana, feeling so amazingly sated and relaxed, having needed that release desperately, replying simply, "Thank you, honey."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I'm so glad everyone enjoyed the last chapter! I loved hearing from so many of you about it. I hope you liked the aftermath just as much.

I know these chapters are shorter than my chapters were in Her Smile Heals Me, but please keep in mind that I am updating KMWTLI much faster this way. Stay with me, folks! There is so very much that is going to happen in this story.

Leave me a review if you have anything at all to say! I read each one and respond to many of them. Also, don't forget you can find me under **mamatots** on tumblr. Thanks, Kim


	9. She Keeps a Picture of Me

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 9)**

_I'm not the sort of person_

_Who falls in and quickly out of love,_

_But to you I gave my affection_

_Right from the start…_

_I have a lover who loves me_

_How could I break such a heart,_

_Yet still you get my attention…_

…_You make me lie when I don't want to,_

_And you make someone else_

_some kind of an unknowing fool,_

_And you make me stay_

_When I should not_

_Are you so strong or is all_

_the weakness in me…._

(The Weakness In Me ~ Joan Armatrading)

**Wednesday, August 17, 2022**

**11:15 AM**

Cate Boyd walked hand-in-hand down West 4th Street with her girlfriend, Jess Crawford, on Wednesday morning. Once the couple reached Broadway, they crossed the street and turned left, passing in front of one of the university bookstores.

"Oh, hon…," Jess stopped abruptly, "Let me run in here and check if my textbook came in."

"Sure," Cate smiled, following the younger girl inside.

Cate browsed one of the sale tables while she waited, picking up one of the suspense novels and reading the inside jacket. She put it back on the table then moved over toward the fiction section, seeing a display in the center of the store called Staff Recommendations.

The brunette paused in front of the display, scanning the staff's selections. Being an avid reader most of her life, she recognized many of the titles as being old and new bestsellers, having read most of them already. Her light blue eyes froze on a particular title though, not having thought of it in years. The book was _Room_ by Emma Donoghue, and Cate's memory instantly went to a night eleven years earlier when she drove to hear the author speak about her novel. It was the first time Cate Boyd ever went out with Quinn Fabray…it was also the night she first kissed her.

The older girl took a settling breath as she shook off the flash of memory which seemed to invade her out of nowhere.

"Cate?" Jess said from nearby.

The tall brunette shook her head and turned toward her name, "Yes?"

"Did you hear me?" Jess asked, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes, recognizing that far-away look on her girlfriend's face.

"I'm sorry…I was reading something," Cate covered, "What did you need?"

"I asked if you have any change."

"Uh, yeah…," Cate slid her right hand down in the front pocket of her favorite jeans, pulling out a handful of coins, a tube of lip balm, and a balled up, forgotten piece of paper. She paused again, looking down at the varied items in her palm and seeing the ragged white ball.

"Do you have thirty cents?" Jess prompted.

"Yeah," Cate picked out a quarter and a nickel, handing it to the younger girl, "Here."

"Thanks," Jess smiled and turned back to the cashier.

Cate stepped over to the side of the store and stuffed everything back into her pocket except for the piece of paper. She had not thought about it since Saturday afternoon when Santana insisted she take it. She had wadded it up and put it in her pocket, discarded.

It had been washed with her jeans, making it quite tattered. As she unrolled it, she surprised herself that she internally held hope it remained readable. Once she flattened it out, she was relieved that all but one number was legible. The next to last number was smudged from the washing machine, but Cate could tell it was either a four or a nine.

She stood there staring at it. _It really looks more like a four_, she thought. _Or could it be a seven_? _No, this number is definitely a seven so that one has to be a four_. The brunette shook her head. _Stop it, Cate_, she chastised herself for even trying to figure it out.

She balled up the paper again and stuffed it back into her pocket. _I don't care_, she reminded herself.

"Ready?" Jess asked, walking up behind Cate and slipping her arm through the older girl's arm to link them.

Cate jumped slightly at the unanticipated contact, internally cursing herself, feeling as though she were caught doing something she shouldn't be doing. She sighed heavily and forced a smile, telling Jess, "Yeah…let's go."

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday, August 20, 2022<strong>

**10:51 AM**

Santana stood in the middle of the hotel lobby, watching from a short distance as Brittany used the concierge phone to call her parents' hotel room. The last time Santana stood inside this lobby was when the Glee Club went to the Show Choir Nationals competition her junior year in high school. They'd lost that year, but the group won the title of National Champions the following year in Chicago.

Glee Club meant everything to Santana, and to Brittany, when they were teens. Through that experience, Santana found her passion for singing and performing, she met the friends who became her second family, including Rachel Berry who became the sister she never thought she wanted or would ever have, and most importantly, she faced and ultimately accepted her deeply-rooted love for Brittany.

"Santana!"

The Latina turned toward the wall of elevators to see a bubbly, attractive nineteen-year-old walking in her direction. Santana smiled broadly and acknowledged with outstretched hands, "Hey, squirt!"

Emily Pierce hugged her sister-in-law tightly, questioning, "I'm about to be a sophomore in college…don't you think I'm a bit old to be called squirt?"

"Nah, never," Santana winked at the young blonde as Brittany walked up to them.

"Hey, Em," Brittany hugged her younger sister, kissing her cheek.

"Mom and Dad are coming," Emily informed the older girls, "Are we eating soon? I'm starving."

"Yeah, I texted and tried calling Mom's cell when we got here, but the call went straight to voice mail," Brittany said, "So I just called the room."

"Our phones both died," Emily explained, adding with a victorious smile, "I claimed the charger first when we got to the room."

"How was the drive in?" Santana asked the young blonde, thinking how much she looked like Brittany, especially now that she'd grown slightly taller than her older sister.

"It was fine…all my stuff is boxed and stuffed into the back of the van," Emily divulged.

They shared a small laugh as Meg and John Pierce stepped up behind them, "Hey, girls!"

"Dad!" Brittany hugged her dad then her mom, telling them, "I'm so glad to see you guys. I've missed you so much."

"We've missed you too," her mom told her, holding onto her eldest child's hand, squeezing it.

"You both look fantastic!" John assured them, hugging Santana, "Do you know where you want to eat lunch?"

"Yes, we know a great place near the theatre," Santana answered.

"I'm so glad you guys could come into the City to see the show," Brittany smiled.

"Of course, sweetie," Mrs. Pierce said, "We hate that we couldn't come for opening night, but this way at least…we get to see you two and the show before driving Emily upstate to Binghamton."

"Finally moving away to college!" Santana stated excitedly, "We're so proud of you, Em."

"Thanks," Emily beamed, "I can't wait!"

"Santana, you look more beautiful than ever today," Meg stepped around her daughters to hug Santana, pulling back quickly and looking down at her lower torso, "You're pregnant!"

Santana instantly looked over at Brittany who was looking at her mother like a deer in headlights, astonished that she could tell.

"Wait…how did you know?" Brittany asked.

Meg Pierce put her hand over her daughter-in-law's slightly protruding abdomen and smiled ear to ear, "This sundress does not fool me, dear."

Santana blushed slightly though the brown of her skin hid it.

"Besides…you are glowing, sweetheart," Meg complimented Santana.

Santana looked over at Brittany who winked at her with a proud smile on her face.

"When were you going to tell us, girls?" John Pierce asked joyfully, "Congrats!"

"At the restaurant," Brittany laughed, accepting a big hug from her dad, "I swear!"

"I'm so happy for you girls! You two will make wonderful moms…," Meg told them, understanding all their past struggles and what a blessing this pregnancy was for the entire family, "…but I'm even more elated that I'm going to be a grandmother!"

"Congratulations," Emily hugged them both again, looking forward to her future role as aunt, "And I'll be closer now so I can see the baby more!"

"Exactly!" Santana laughed, "How much do you charge to babysit for a weekend?"

Meg hugged Santana, asking sweetly, "You told your dads?"

"Yes, we had to tell them early if we wanted to make sure we beat Rachel to it," the Latina teased, remembering how excited Daniel and Trey were when they found out they'd be grandfathers finally.

Meg leaned closer to Santana, looking directly into her brown eyes, "Did you tell your mom yet?"

"I called her last night," Santana said with relief in her voice, "She's thrilled…_and_…she's visiting next week for her birthday."

"That's wonderful," Mrs. Pierce smiled with relief, "She and I will have a lot to talk about once she gets back…plus we have planning to do!"

"Mom, slow down…," Brittany insisted, "We don't even know yet if it's a boy or a girl."

"I vote boy!" John raised his hand.

"I vote girl," Emily stated with insistence, looking over at her father with a smile.

"Uh, sorry…it doesn't work that way," Brittany replied jokingly, slipping her arm lovingly around her wife's waist as the group walked out of the hotel.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday, August 21, 2022<strong>

**1:25 PM**

Brittany rounded the corner of 51st Street in the theatre district of Manhattan, heading to the Gershwin for the Sunday matinee performance of _Funny Girl_.

She was excited that her family was in town for a short visit to see her dance and that they would be in the audience again today. Though the Pierces were immediately taken with the revival and the fabulous performance of Rachel Berry as the infamous Fanny Brice, being sure to point out how extraordinary the chorus members were too, Brittany knew her mom was now preoccupied with thoughts of becoming a grandmother.

Mrs. Pierce had given Brittany a small, decorative sack after the show Saturday night, saying she bought her and Santana a "small surprise" while she was out shopping that afternoon.

Brittany's sister promptly spilled the beans in typical Emily fashion by revealing, "It's for the baby."

The memory of her mother's face and the look she gave Emily made Brittany giggle to herself, but she assured her mom she would keep it a surprise until she and Santana could open it together.

The tall blonde was lost in her thoughts to the point that she almost past by Austin Royle on the sidewalk without realizing it. She stopped and backed up before she saw that he was on his phone.

"So anyway, I guess there's no use trying anymore," Austin said into the phone, "I suppose after a week, if you were going to call me then you would have already."

Austin turned unexpectedly, bumping into Brittany as she stood there.

"Oh sorry," he said then realized it was his best friend, "Oh…hey."

"Hey," Brittany frowned, feeling extremely disconnected from Austin since Monday night's fiasco dinner.

"I had to come outside to get a decent signal…I hate this stupid phone," he said, holding up his cell with a look of disgust on his handsome face.

"Austin…I'm sorry you're upset lately," Brittany didn't really know what more to say to him.

She had apologized several times in the past few days, mainly for her behavior at dinner that night. Santana suggested that Brittany not mention anything more to Austin about Karofsky or their connection to Karofsky, insisting that it was not their place to tell him. The blonde breathed deeply, feeling that she owed Austin more explanation than she had given, especially since it was clear Dave wasn't willing to take responsibility and face Austin's questions.

"It's okay…I guess I just scared him off," Austin said sadly, "He won't return any of my calls or texts."

"No…seriously, Austin…it's not you," Brittany tried to reassure him, adding vaguely, "Dave…I mean, _Mitch_…just has some personal issues that he needs to face and be upfront about."

"I know his name is David, Britt," Austin replied, "Remember? He told me that much."

"Right," the blonde frowned, leaning back against the bricked wall of the theatre and folding her long arms.

"Why won't you tell me the full story?"

Brittany swallowed hard, "Because I'm trying to be respectful of Santana and her privacy."

"Did they date or something? Is that why everything is so awkward with all of you?" he asked, stepping closer toward her, "Because I don't care if they did…I mean, if she doesn't feel weird about it then I'm cool with it."

"They didn't just date, Austin…it's way more complicated than that."

"What then? Somebody have the balls to tell me the truth here!" Austin raised his voice, causing a few passers-by to turn their heads toward the friends.

Brittany paused a long moment, contemplating the situation from all sides. She looked up to see the innocence in her best friend's face, knowing he had never wavered in his allegiance to her since she knew him as a geeky teenager.

She took a deep breath then disclosed softly, "He raped her, Austin."

Austin tilted his head, looking directly into the bright blue of Brittany's eyes, "What?"

"He brutally raped her…then he lied about it until he was forced to tell the truth," Brittany recounted her version of events for him, "He went to prison for it."

Austin's face lost all expression, and his pale skin went even whiter.

"It happened right before I met you at dance camp," she added.

"We were just kids then…why would he do that? _How_ could he do that?" Austin pondered aloud, "That doesn't sound anything like the man I met."

"That's just it, Austin… you don't really know him. You don't know the _real_ Dave Karofsky. He is not what you think he is."

"But…but…," he stammered over processing the truth, "He's so quiet…and gentle around _me_."

"There is no way that guy is gentle…if you knew the details of what he did to Santana…," Brittany trailed off, tears filling her eyes. She scanned her friend's face, seeing a look of disbelief, so she pushed the topic, "Do you remember when your brother drove me back to Lima because of an emergency at home?"

Austin nodded.

"Santana tried to kill herself because of what happened to her…because of _him_…you can't believe a word he says to you, Austin…you just can't," Brittany spoke sternly.

Austin sighed heavily, "I'm so sorry, Britt…I'm sorry I dragged him back into your lives."

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, August 22, 2022<strong>

**9:28 AM**

Brittany sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing lotion on her freshly shaven legs and bare feet, when the bathroom door opened and out stepped Santana.

"Ok, I'm ready," the dark-haired beauty announced, holding her hands out to the sides as she presented herself to her wife, "Am I dressed appropriately?"

Brittany scanned up and down Santana, from her casual, navy Capri pants with her navy and white striped top down to her stylish white sandals and her red-painted toenails, replying with a smile, "Perfect!"

"So when do I get to know where we're going?" Santana asked as she moved toward the bed and put her arms around Brittany, kissing the top of her blonde head.

Santana eyed Brittany's outfit for any clue, seeing that she had on comfortable, beige cargo pants with elastic around the knees and a plum-colored cotton t-shirt.

"And spoil the surprise?" Brittany laughed, standing up and kissing her wife on the lips. She then bent to the floor and picked up two cloth bags which Santana could see were full of things like a folded blanket, a water bottle, and some suntan lotion.

"Hmm…I think I have a guess," Santana offered as she took her wedding ring and sunglasses from her jewelry box on the top of their ornate clothes chest.

As Santana slipped the personalized band on her ring finger, twisting it twice out of habit, she followed behind Brittany while she circled through the kitchen to pull a large Ziplock bag from the vegetable drawer at the bottom of the refrigerator, stuffing it into one of the cloth bags.

"You do, huh?" Brittany played along, "Ok…where?"

"Central Park for a picnic?" Santana stated almost triumphantly.

"Nope," Brittany teased, turning to pick up her keys and sunglasses off the kitchen table, giving Santana another quick peck on the lips, "Totally wrong direction."

"Hmmm…," Santana's eyes narrowed, struggling with reading her wife's vague clues.

"Come on, my confused honey bunny," Brittany told her with a wink as she opened the apartment door and stepped into the hallway.

Santana tried to grab one of the bags from Brittany as they started down the staircase, but the blonde snatched her hand away, exclaiming, "Nice try…I've got it though."

"You're enjoying this little secret of yours, aren't you?" Santana accused with amusement as they stepped to the landing of the fifth floor just as the door to #5C opened, and Grayson Knox stepped into the hall with Rachel Berry.

The girls paused, looking at each other with great delight then staring over at Rachel and Grayson who were lost in a passionate kiss.

After the kiss lasted a bit longer than was pleasant for Santana and Brittany, the Latina cleared her throat to indicate their presence.

Grayson broke the kiss and looked up to see his neighbors smiling back at him and his overnight guest.

Rachel turned around, her shoes in her hand and her long, dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail, as a red blush spread across her cheeks.

"Hey, Sis," Santana smirked, enjoying the _caught you_ moment with Rachel, "Were you coming up to say hi?"

"Umm…," Rachel Berry was unusually lost for comment, answering, "Yes?"

Santana and Brittany started laughing harder which made Grayson laugh too.

"I'm glad all of you find this so funny," Rachel retorted, pushing up the long sleeves of her cardigan before lifting one leg then the other to slip on her shoes.

"Ok well, you kids have fun…we're heading out for the day," Brittany told the new couple.

"Where are you going?" Grayson asked with curiosity, noticing the jubilant mood his good friends were displaying.

"Your guess is as good as mine!" Santana said loudly, starting down the stairs again after Brittany.

"Does it involve the baby?" Grayson hollered after them, putting his muscular arm around Rachel's petite frame, pulling her into him.

"Rachel!" Santana shouted up the stairwell, "You promised!"

"Sorry!" the tiny diva grimaced and nudged Grayson in the ribs with her elbow for revealing that she told.

"Congratulations, by the way!" Grayson yelled again, looking down, over the ornamental, wood railing at Santana and Brittany who paused and looked up at him, "We're so excited!"

"Thank you!" they replied with huge smiles.

"Love you guys," Rachel shouted down to them, "Have fun on your _mystery_ date!"

"Love you too!" Santana yelled back at her sister, hearing one of their lower-floor neighbors shout at them to _shut the hell up_ right as the front door to their building closed behind them.

She giggled as she and Brittany stepped off the front stoop and walked down the block until the brunette spotted a recognizable red and yellow taxi cab that had Caliente Cab Co painted along its side.

"What the hell is going on?" Santana stopped in her tracks when she saw Frap leaned against the refurbished 1950 Studebaker, holding out a set of car keys that dangled from a rainbow-striped rabbit's foot.

"It's all gassed up and ready to roll, my dear," the eccentric restaurant owner told Brittany as she accepted the keys from him.

"Thanks, Frap!" the blonde dancer stretched up to kiss the taller man on the cheek, "I owe you…big!"

"Just bring it back with a full tank and no dents, k?" he groused in his typical, lovable style.

"This is getting strange, Brittany Susan Pierce," Santana pointed out lightheartedly.

"I know! This is so much fun, isn't it?" Brittany finished setting the bags into the backseat of the cab then opened the front passenger door for her wife, slapping playfully at the brunette's firmly-rounded backside, "Get in!"

Santana shook her head and got into the car as Brittany shut the door behind her then circled the front of the Studebaker to get into its driver's side, "Thanks again, Frap…see you this evening!"

The white-haired man waived then started walking back up the side street toward Bleeker.

"Ok…buckle up," Brittany instructed happily, sticking the key into the ignition and starting the taxi's engine.

Santana shook her head in amazement, pulling her seatbelt from the side and locking it across her torso, "Do you even remember how to drive?"

Brittany buckled her seatbelt and put her hands on the oversized steering wheel of the historic taxi cab, trying to remember how many years it had been since she'd actually driven a car.

Even when the couple had flown back home for visits or out of town on vacation, Santana was always the one to drive their rental cars. Brittany chuckled and shrugged, exposing, "I guess we'll find out!"

"Oh geez," Santana mumbled as Brittany turned the wheel to pull away from the curb, looking back over her left shoulder to see a car passing, pointing out quickly, "Car!"

"Oops, sorry," Brittany said after stepping hard on the break.

"A blinker is probably a good idea, babe," Santana swallowed hard, shaking her head, realizing this was payback for all those times she'd driven like a bat out of hell.

Brittany flipped the handle on the blinker, smiling as it started clicking inside the otherwise silent interior, "Okay…ready or not…here we go!"

The girls made their way on the one-way side streets of the West Village until they were on a main street where the mid-morning traffic was relatively light and flowing smoothly through most of the intersections. Santana knew enough of their surroundings to realize that Brittany was driving them toward Long Island, and she watched her wife periodically check the driving directions on her phone as they escaped the concrete jungle of lower Manhattan.

After a couple of hours in the car, traveling the Long Island Expressway, Brittany looked at her mapping system on her phone, following the blue line toward the preset destination. She made the appropriate exit off the highway and followed the route through town until they reached a parking lot.

Once she parked the colorful, old car, Brittany turned off the ignition and looked over at Santana with a huge grin, "We made it!"

Santana swallowed, not revealing to Brittany that she'd totally been white-knuckling the handle on her passenger door most of the trip, "Yay!"

The Latina watched her wife jump out and pull the sacks from the back seat with great enthusiasm, joining her by the time Santana stepped out onto the pavement.

Brittany took Santana by the hand and drew her toward a brown fence at the top of a small hill, telling her, "Come on, hon!"

The couple walked up some weathered stairs, and Santana breathed in fresh salt air as they reached the top, smiling widely when she confirmed visually they were at the beach. "Britt…," Santana said softly as she turned to look at her love, "You went to this much trouble for me?"

"Of course!" the blonde confirmed, "Do you like your surprise?"

"It's wonderful," Santana assured her, snaking her arms around the blonde's waist, pulling her into an embrace, "Just like you."

The look on her wife's face was worth all the effort Brittany put into arranging this day-trip, knowing they both needed a change of pace desperately. "Let's go find a spot on the beach."

The girls walked down toward the shore where they spread out the blanket and took off their shoes so they could relax in the sun.

Santana and Brittany both loved being at the beach, especially since they grew up in the Mid-West, far from any ocean. The childhood sweethearts loved the sand and sun so much that they had their wedding on a beach, exchanging their vows to each other as the sun set. Santana's favorite memory of her wedding to Brittany was watching the orange glow across the horizon and how the dimming light made Brittany's blue eyes sparkle. Even now, the thought of that moment with the love of her life, brought warm tears to Santana's eyes.

The Latina looked up into the clear blue, afternoon sky as she lay with her head in Brittany's lap, enjoying the sight of the seagulls overhead. "Thank you again for this, Britt…."

Brittany ran her long, thin fingers through the dark locks of Santana's thick hair as she looked down at her wife, telling her, "I just wanted to celebrate you for reaching twelve weeks."

"The longest twelve weeks of my life," Santana grimaced, the memories of all the nausea and other side-effects flooding her mind.

"I know it was hard…but you survived like a trouper!" Brittany encouraged.

"With lots of complaining?" Santana self-chided.

Brittany chuckled, agreeing, "Yeah…a tad bit of complaining."

Santana reached up with her arms and pulled Brittany down toward her for a kiss, "I couldn't have made it without you, babe."

"We're a team," Brittany assured the Latina, "We tackle everything together."

"Just remember you said that when the baby cries in the middle of the night," Santana joked.

"Promise," Brittany smiled, "Getting hungry? I brought snacks."

"Like what?" Santana asked with interest.

"Strawberries and red grapes…thoroughly washed for the little sprout," Brittany said as she put her hand over Santana's small bump in her lower abdomen.

"Little sprout?" Santana laughed, putting her hand over Brittany's, "Seems appropriate until the sprout has a name."

"Do you still want to find out if it's a he sprout or a she sprout in a few weeks?" the blonde asked.

"Definitely…and Britt…once we know, I want _you_ to pick the name," Santana revealed.

"Me? Really?" Brittany was surprised that Santana would trust her with making that huge decision alone.

Santana sat up and crossed her legs, taking Brittany by the hand and pulling it to her mouth for a kiss, "My genes…your name…okay?"

Brittany felt overwhelmingly emotional suddenly, a tear escaping her eye and rolling down her cheek. She looked down at the blanket and sniffed before saying, "Yeah, okay."

"Hey…look at me," Santana lifted her wife's chin with her index finger, "I love you more than I could ever tell you in this lifetime…in a hundred lifetimes…and I want you to feel like your spirit is as much a part of this child as mine is."

Brittany's voice caught in her throat as she tried to speak. She wiped at the tears that fell freely down her freckled face and leaned into Santana, nuzzling her face in the crook of the Latina's neck. She took a second to breathe in Santana's familiar scent and the citrus smell of her dark hair.

Brittany swallowed and finally responded, "I wish everyone in the world could feel as loved as I feel right now."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Thank you again for a lot of feedback on the topic of Karofsky. I find it interesting that so many of you fall on the side of Brittany…where you aren't sure he could ever truly change or that he deserves a chance to move past what he did to Santana. I may need to explore that further to see if any of us could alter our view to see him as someone who ultimately took responsibility and served his sentence and deserves a happy life now. Maybe? Hmm, the jury is still out.

If you connected to this chapter or have anything in general to say about this story, please leave me a comment in a review so I can know your thoughts! Thanks, Kim


	10. Some Things Don't Make Sense

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 10)**

_No One here to guide you_

_Now you're on your own_

_Only me beside you_

_Still, you're not alone_

_No one is alone_

_Truly_

_No one is alone…_

_Sometimes people leave you_

_Halfway through the wood_

_Others may deceive you_

_You decide what's good_

_You decide alone_

_But, no one is alone…_

_People make mistakes_

_Fathers, Mothers_

_People make mistakes,_

_Holding to their own_

_Thinking they're alone…_

_Honor their mistakes_

_That everybody makes_

_One another's terrible mistakes…_

_Witches can be right_

_Giants can be good_

_You decide what's right_

_You decide what's good_

_Just remember…_

_Someone is on your side_

_Someone else is not_

_While we're seeing our side_

_Maybe we forgot…_

…_Hard to see the light now_

_Just don't let it go_

_Things will come out right now_

_We can make it so…._

(No One is Alone ~ sung by Bernadette Peters, written by S. Sondheim)

**Tuesday, August 23, 2022**

**6:22 PM**

Cate Boyd sat at an old, wooden desk inside her West Village apartment on Tuesday evening. Her long, thin fingers were perched over the keys of her laptop, ready to type the first sentence of a required brief for her family law clinic. She took a deep breath as her mind wandered back to the task at hand.

The 31-year-old, second year law student pulled the pencil from behind her right ear in order to make a roman numeral I on the yellow pad in front of her. _Ok, Cate…time to get serious now_, she internally redirected herself, stretching her aching shoulders by arching her back and shifting in her desk chair.

She did not even know the first sentence she should write or type so she thumbed through the pages in the blue file folder in front of her, reorienting herself with the _Skinner v. Skinner_ matter she was assigned. She grimaced at the complexity of the divorce suit, her eyes skimming down the names of the three minor children, copying them to her notepad:

_Minors:_

_Joseph age 10_

_Craig age 8_

_Beth age 5_

Cate paused immediately at the last child's name. _Beth_. The attractive brunette looked down at her notepad, her pencil pausing mid-stroke, and she swallowed hard. Cate remembered many conversations with Quinn Fabray while they dated, regarding Quinn's daughter Beth, and Cate had helped Quinn come to terms with her decision to let her baby be adopted, feeling a special connection with Beth since she herself was adopted.

Looking up at her laptop, Cate opened her internet browser and typed Yale University Drama Department into the search engine, clicking on the link at the top of the list. She moved the curser to click on Staff, scrolling through the list until she saw **Quinn Fabray, PhD**.

Her heart started thumping in her chest so hard that she could feel the vibration of it move up the sides of her neck, and she looked over her shoulder toward the noise coming from the adjacent kitchen. Cate turned back to the computer, taking a deep breath as her hand hovered over her mouse before clicking the link to open Quinn's staff page.

A recent picture of the blonde professor instantly appeared at the top of the page, causing Cate's breath to catch in her chest. Her crystal blue eyes examined every familiar feature of the younger blonde's face, from her perfectly-proportional nose to her now longer hair and from her straight, white teeth to her perfectly-shaped lips.

Cate sat frozen, staring into the face of her lost love, acknowledging internally that she never got over their breakup. To this day, it still made no sense to her, but as hard as Cate tried over the past six years to push her feelings for Quinn away or bury them deeper inside her heart, she now realized fully that she had failed.

"Hey, honey…," Jess said from behind the older girl, leaning around the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen.

"Huh, what? Nothing…," Cate jumped in her chair and slammed her laptop shut, turning around quickly as though she'd been physically yanked back from her past.

"Umm…okay," Jess laughed slightly, a look of confusion on her pretty face, "I was just going to tell you dinner was ready."

"Oh," Cate forced a smile, her heart still pounding in her chest, "Great."

She stood and moved to the small table which was pushed into the corner of the living room. The older girl sat at the table as Jess put a plate of food in front of her then sat down across the table with her own plate.

Jess picked up her fork and knife immediately, cutting a bite off her chicken and put it in her mouth to chew.

"Mmm, this recipe of your mom's is delicious," the NYU junior stated enthusiastically, taking a bite of green beans next.

Cate picked up her fork, pulling her napkin from underneath it and lowering it to her lap, still trying to steady her nerves as her girlfriend chatted.

"I hope the beans aren't too crisp for you," Jess noted, "I tried to sauté them a little longer this time."

Cate looked down at her plate of food. Her first thought was that Jess was a pretty good cook and the food looked appetizing. Her second thought though was that Quinn Fabray was not. The second thought made her smile to herself.

Cate remembered eating plenty of burnt grilled cheese sandwiches and rubbery scrambled eggs, but she also fondly remembered not minding at all. She was just happy to sit across the table and stare into Quinn's beautiful green eyes.

"What's funny?" Jess stopped mid-bite to ask.

Cate shook those thoughts from her head before she looked up and said, "What?"

"You laughed…what's funny?"

"I did?" Cate's brows furrowed.

"Where are you lately, Catie?" Jess asked, setting her fork down on her plate.

"What do you mean?"

"For the last week or so…you've been so distant," the young girl's thick, light-brown hair fell off her shoulders as she spoke, "Is it just with this clinic you're doing or…is there something wrong?"

Cate paused. She couldn't tell her girlfriend that her head had been consumed with thoughts of her ex recently. Cate's pulse quickened as silence hung in the air, and she finally replied, "Yeah, it's just this damn clinic. I don't like these complicated divorce cases. I feel so bad for the kids who are caught in the middle."

Jess reached across the small table to put her hand on Cate's arm, "I know it's not easy, but you're so good with the kids. They're fortunate to have someone like you to connect with."

Cate nodded and looked down at Jess' hand as she caressed the older girl's arm. Cate bit at her lower lip, scolding herself for starting to internally compare how Jess made her feel against how Quinn always made her feel.

"Thanks," Cate told her girlfriend then picked up her fork and took a bite of mashed potatoes.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday, August 25, 2022<strong>

**7:06 PM**

Santana handed some cash to her cab's driver before she opened the back door and stepped out onto the NYC sidewalk Thursday night. She felt guilty taking a cab to dinner with the budget she and Brittany were on currently, but she had been feeling sort of achy all day and did not want to deal with the subway system. Plus, she was meeting up with her mother who came to town to see her, and she did not want to be late this evening.

The dark-haired beauty shut the cab door behind her and straightened her knee-length skirt then moved toward the entrance of the restaurant, opening the door and stepping into its lobby. According to the text she'd received ten minutes earlier, she knew to look toward the side bar area for her mother.

"Can I help you?" the hostess asked as Santana glanced into a nearby mirror, checking her make-up and long hair which was pulled back into a clip.

"I'm meeting someone, thank you," she responded, leaning slightly to scan the interior of the bar, seeing only the back of an older gentleman who was seated at the long, wooden counter.

"No problem," the hostess smiled pleasantly.

A voice from behind the young Latina said, "Santana?"

She turned and smiled widely at an older brunette, "Mom!"

"Hey, sweetheart," Mrs. Lopez walked up to her daughter and squeezed her tightly, "You look more beautiful than ever tonight."

"So do you," Santana beamed at the shorter woman, "That red looks great on you."

"Thank you. I got this dress for my birthday," her mom said, adjusting her chunky, black necklace.

"I'm glad for a chance to see you…Happy _belated_ Birthday," the young brunette said.

"Only two days late," her mother dismissed sweetly, not wanting Santana to feel bad and adding, "I've missed you so much. I was disappointed when you didn't come home this past Thanksgiving or Christmas."

"I know," Santana frowned, still feeling slightly guilty about it, "There was just no way I could get time away from the show then."

"Do you miss it now?" her mother asked, knowing it was a hard decision for her daughter to leave her off-Broadway role.

"Of course," Santana nodded then put her hands over her lower abdomen, "But this is the best role I could have landed."

"Absolutely!" Maribel Lopez laughed and patted Santana's small bump, joy filling her aging face, "Look at you…you're showing too!"

"I know! Crazy, isn't it?" Santana laughed along with the older Latina, "There really is a baby inside me."

"I can't believe my baby is having a baby now," Mrs. Lopez reached up and caressed Santana's cheek, "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too, Mom," Santana felt pure happiness in sharing this moment with her mother.

"Congratulations, Santana," a deep voice said from the bar's archway.

The young Latina turned toward the sound of her name, her smile vanishing at the sight of her father.

"You look lovely," Hector Lopez complimented his daughter, moving closer to her and his wife. He leaned toward Santana and put one of his long arms around her small frame, hugging her awkwardly, adding, "It's good to see you again."

"Thank you," Santana responded softly, immediately uncomfortable in his presence.

She looked again at her mother whose smile turned tense as well.

"Are you ready to be seated?" the hostess asked the trio.

"I'm ready…are you?" Dr. Lopez responded.

Santana timidly nodded and forced a small smile.

"Right this way then," the young girl gathered three menus and put a mark by a table on her layout grid, turning to lead the Lopez family to a table.

Hector followed immediately, but Santana pulled on Maribel's arm, holding her mother back, asking her, "Why is he here?"

"He wanted to come see you, Santana," Mrs. Lopez insisted, "He's excited for his grandchild."

"He wasn't excited enough to be there the day I married his grandchild's other mother," Santana retorted.

Maribel sighed heavily, "Give him a chance, Santana…_please_?"

Santana gulped down some air and followed silently behind her mother to be seated at the table with her father.

As her parents looked at their menus, Santana's mind was spinning, and she leaned into a sudden cramp, the inside of her stomach twisting. She wanted Brittany so much, but at the same time, she was unsure if Brittany's presence would make the evening better or worse for her.

After they ordered, her father turned to her and asked, "So how have things been going for you?"

Santana fidgeted with the cloth napkin in her lap, hearing her father's question but quickly analyzing it for what specifically he was asking. She was surprised that after eleven years, the sound of his voice still made her feel so small.

"Santana?" Hector prodded.

She looked up at the large man, "Fine, thank you."

"Do you like your doctor?" Maribel asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Yes, she's very nice," Santana answered her mother, "She's made us feel a lot better about some of my health issues."

"Health issues?" Dr. Lopez sounded confused.

Santana looked over at her mother who knew the details of her daughter's physical scars left from the rape.

"Nothing that affects the baby, I hope?" Hector pushed.

"Nothing so far," Santana responded, swallowing to force moisture into her dry mouth then reaching for her water glass.

"Good," he smiled toward his wife, adding proudly, "We want a strong addition to the Lopez name. Right, Maribel?"

"We only want a healthy child," Mrs. Lopez clarified as she patted Santana's forearm encouragingly, "Ten fingers and ten toes."

"Which hospital will you be using?" Dr. Lopez asked, having done his residency in Manhattan before moving his young family to Lima, Ohio.

"Lopez-Pierce," Santana said softly, looking down at her lap.

"What?" Hector's uncertainty paused the conversation.

"Lopez-Pierce. I am legally married. My last name is Lopez-_Pierce_," Santana specified with insistence, "Our baby will be equally a Pierce."

"Okay," Hector picked up his glass of water for a drink.

Mrs. Lopez shifted uncomfortably in her seat, clearing her throat and asking, "How is Brittany?"

"She's good…_very_ good. She's excited about her new show," Santana reported, her tone softening on the topic of her wife, "And about becoming a mother."

"I'm sure she is," Maribel smiled at her daughter as the waiter brought salads for Mr. and Mrs. Lopez and a cup of soup for Santana.

"She's wonderful in it," Santana continued, "She can get us tickets for tomorrow if you'd like to see it."

"Do you have any first names picked out yet?" Dr. Lopez tried to further the conversation as he ate his salad.

"I don't want to talk about my baby with you," Santana responded before she realized the words inside her head were said aloud.

Mr. and Mrs. Lopez both stopped mid-bite.

"Santana," Maribel cautioned.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I know we're celebrating your birthday, but…," Santana looked down and paused, telling herself internally that she had the right to feel the way she did, "…I don't want him here."

"Santana," her mother tried again, her dark eyes pleading with her daughter to be civil.

"No," the young Latina said firmly, looking over at Hector, "How dare you make me feel like garbage for years then show back up to play grandfather."

"This was a bad idea," Maribel stated, her voice shaking, "I realize that now."

Santana never took her eyes off her father, accusing him, "You have not even said my wife's name tonight. You have not asked about her. You have not asked about _us_. Not even once."

Hector shifted in his seat and pulled at the collar of his shirt.

The young Latina continued, "You only want to talk about what _you_ are comfortable talking about. I don't even know why you came to New York."

"I am here to see my daughter," Hector said softly, his eyes downcast.

"You don't have a daughter, and you won't have a grandchild," Santana stated boldly, years of hurt coming to the surface as her emotions overtook her, "Mine and Brittany's baby already has three loving grandfathers…you're not included in our family."

Santana stood quickly, hot tears in her eyes, laying her napkin on the table beside her bowl, her voice cracking as she told her mother, "I'm very sorry to ruin your dinner, Mom."

Maribel Lopez started to stop her daughter's exit, her heart hurting at the unintended confrontation that occurred, but instead, she closed her eyes and let Santana leave.

* * *

><p><strong>11:33 PM<strong>

Brittany stepped off the subway as soon as the doors slid open, pushing around the people moving toward the exit turnstiles. "Excuse me, sorry…excuse me," she said as she stepped around or in front of each one of them, scanning her subway card to exit.

She ran up the stairs as quickly as her tired muscles would allow, appreciating the night, August breeze once she was on street level. Checking her phone for any new texts from Santana, Brittany made her way down a side street, crossing over Bleeker and heading toward her apartment building.

With the last bit of energy she had reserved, Brittany walked up five flights of stairs and knocked on apartment #5C.

The door opened quickly, and Grayson Knox said, "Hey."

"Hi…I got here as quickly as I could," Brittany told him, clearly out of breath.

"She's still here," Grayson opened the door all the way so Brittany could step inside. The blonde dancer moved toward the couch in the living room, seeing her wife sleeping under a lightweight blanket.

"She fell asleep about thirty minutes ago."

"Did she say anything to you about what happened?" Brittany inquired.

"She didn't really want to talk…," Grayson grimaced, remembering how upset Santana was when he opened the door earlier in the evening, "…she was mostly just shaken up at seeing him again."

"Yeah, her father isn't the first ghost to pop up from her past recently." Brittany's blue eyes glossed over with emotion, hating that she wasn't there for her beloved when she needed protection or comfort, even though she rushed home after the show as soon as she saw Santana's texts.

"Well, I got her to eat some dinner with me then we watched a movie until she fell asleep."

"Thank you, Grayson," Brittany slipped an arm around her neighbor's waist, hugging him and saying, "You're a good friend."

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more, but I think she just didn't want to be alone."

Brittany went around to the front of the couch and kneeled down beside Santana, gently rubbing her back and kissing her softly on the cheek, "Hey, honey…wake up."

Santana's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled once her eyes adjusted and she saw Brittany next to her.

"Hi," Brittany returned the smile.

The Latina sat up and wrapped her arms around her wife's neck, breaking into a soft cry as Brittany held her.

* * *

><p><strong>Friday, August 26, 2022<strong>

**10:27 PM**

Quinn Fabray stood at the back of the room Friday night, watching her Cabaret troupe as they took their final bows to loud, approving applause.

She clapped along with the rest of the audience, a huge smile across her attractive face.

"They are quiet impressive," a female voice said near her, "You're Quinn Fabray?"

"Thank you…and yes," the blonde professor acknowledged the older woman, "I am Quinn."

"Ellen Gardner," the short, stocky woman stuck her hand out which held a white business card, "Soho Playhouse."

"You've come a long way for tonight's performance," Quinn smiled and took the card, seeing that it listed the woman's title as _Theatre Director_.

"I'll go anywhere to sample good theatre."

"I'll take that as a compliment then," Quinn replied, feeling proud of her students' performances and the play she personally had written.

As the house lights came back up and the audience began to disperse from the Cabaret basement, the two women stepped aside toward the far corner.

"You should…you have a lot of talent," Ellen complimented further, "Both as a playwright and as a director."

The young professor felt a blush cross her cheeks, and she looked down at her feet, "Well, I have a wonderful group of students who are filled with enthusiasm and talent."

"You underestimate yourself," the woman was clearly not one to mince words. There was a confident, almost forceful, edge to each one she uttered, "You're young, but I've heard great things about you and what you've done with this program."

"Thank you," Quinn accepted the praise this time.

"So here's the deal…I need an assistant director."

Quinn did a double take, "And you're here tonight to offer me the position?"

"Not yet…," Ellen specified with a pleased smirk, "…but I'm here to offer you an interview for the position."

The clarification made Quinn chuckle quietly to herself.

"Think about it…a move to an off-Broadway theatre is an eventual springboard to Broadway."

"What makes you so sure I want to be on Broadway," Quinn folded her arms and narrowed her eyes at the aging theatre director.

"Because, my dear…we _all_ want to be on Broadway," Ellen retorted, "Don't even try to deny it."

Quinn's phone buzzed in her pants pocket, and she reached in to pull it out, not recognizing the number. "Excuse me," she told Ellen, "Let me take this…business related."

"No problem…call the number on the card and ask for me," Ellen Gardner said, pointing back at the young blonde as she backed toward the exit, "Soon though…this offer won't last long, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn watched the woman leave as she unlocked her cell, answering, "Hello?"

There was only silence at the other end.

"Hello?" Quinn repeated. She paused a second, and the person on the other end took a hesitant breath but did not say anything. She said again, "Hello?"

Quinn listened for a response, hearing a car horn honk in the distance then the line went dead.

"That was weird," Quinn said aloud to herself, locking her phone screen and sliding the cell back into her pants pocket.

"Hey, Quinn? Kitchen's cleaned. Need anything else before we go?" Chloe Sullivan asked.

The Yale professor looked down at her watch, seeing that it was 11:07 pm, then looked back up at her student, telling Chloe and the brunette standing next to her, "No, that's fine…you and Tessa go on. I'll lock up."

"Ok, goodnight, Quinn," Tessa Anderson smiled sweetly, wiping her hands on a white towel and turning back toward the small kitchen area.

"Goodnight, girls," Quinn waived at them, "See you tomorrow night."

The beautiful blonde heard the exit door shut then her cell phone buzzed again, startling her.

She pulled it out and said abruptly, "What do you want?"

"Quinn?" a shaky voice said on the other end.

"Santana?"

"Quinn, I…I…don't know what to do," the Latina told her best friend.

"Did you just call?"

"When?"

"Just now…a few minutes ago?" Quinn specified.

"No…but, I'm scared," Santana's voice trembled.

"Why? What's wrong?" Quinn sensed panic in Santana's tone.

"I'm bleeding."

* * *

><p><strong>11:46 PM<strong>

Brittany turned the knob on the front door of her apartment as she came home from Friday night's performance, finding all the lights off inside. She entered quietly, easing the door shut behind her and setting her duffle bag down on the floor. She then patted blindly along the wall between the door and the kitchen cabinets to hang her keys on the hook, not wanting to turn on the light and wake Santana.

As her eyes adjusted slightly in the dim moonlight, she padded softly across the wood floor toward the bed in the far corner, thinking she'd find her wife sleeping peacefully, but their bed was empty when she reached it.

Brittany turned toward the bathroom, seeing that the door was open and the light was off.

"Santana?" the blonde called out in a hushed volume, looking toward the couch.

"Over here," a soft voice said from behind Brittany.

She turned around, finding a silhouette of the Latina who was sitting at the kitchen table with her legs pulled up in front of her in one of its two chairs.

"Why didn't you say anything when I came in?" Brittany asked out of confusion.

"Sorry," Santana said with no inflection in her voice.

Brittany stepped toward her and inquired, "Are you feeling nauseous?"

"No," Santana said flatly.

"Heartburn?" Brittany ventured another guess.

"No."

The blonde pulled the other chair around the table beside her wife and sat down. She rubbed Santana's lower leg reassuringly, asking, "Is everything ok?"

There was a pause before the Latina answered, "Yeah."

Brittany heard Santana's voice crack that time. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and lit the screen so she could see the brunette more plainly in its artificial glow, asking, "Are you crying?"

The blonde dancer heard Santana sniff then slowly blow out a breath of air as the light from the phone went dark again.

"Sorry," Santana answered.

"Don't apologize, hon," Brittany reassured her, "Why are you upset? Did you talk to your father again?"

Santana didn't say anything further but leaned over onto Brittany and broke into a sob.

"Tan, what's wrong?" Brittany wrapped her arms around her wife as her shoulders shook, prodding, "What's going on?"

"I've been bleeding," she replied, her voice shaky.

"Bleeding?" Brittany felt her chest tighten with immediate fear, "What do you mean? Is it a lot?"

"More than just a little," Santana described, "I'm waiting for the doctor to call me back."

Brittany didn't respond, tightening her hold on Santana while different scenarios flashed inside her head. The intense silence was finally broken when Santana's phone rang loudly.

Both girls quickly reached for it. Brittany picked it up first but saw that the screen said QUINN (cell).

"It's Quinn," the blonde told her wife.

"I called her first," Santana explained, unlocking her phone and putting it to her ear, answering, "Hey, I haven't heard back from the doctor yet."

There was a pause on Santana's end, before Brittany heard the brunette tell her best friend, "Yeah, she's home now."

Santana handed the phone to Brittany, stating, "She wants to talk to you."

"Hey, Q," Brittany said into the phone.

"Britt, listen…don't panic and don't let her panic," Quinn Fabray said calmly on the other end, "Spotting is very common during early pregnancy, ok?"

"Uhuh," Brittany tried to say in an even tone.

"Brittany?" Quinn knew her friend well, "Everything will be fine."

"Okay. Here's Santana," Brittany responded, looking over at the Latina in the darkness and rubbing her hand along the curve of her back to comfort her, handing back the phone.

"Thanks for checking on me, Q," Santana told her.

"Are you still bleeding?" Quinn asked.

"It was less the last time I looked," Santana answered.

"That's good," Quinn said reassuringly, "Just stay calm and call me back once you talk to her."

"I will," the brunette told her.

Quinn breathed heavily into the phone, her feelings betraying her resolve, "I love both."

"We love you too," Santana responded with a slight smile toward Brittany, ending the call and setting the phone back on top of the table.

"Can I get you anything?" Brittany asked.

"No," Santana said more harshly than she intended, catching herself and reaching forward to grasp her wife's hand, "I'm sorry, babe."

"Should you lie down?" Brittany suggested, squeezing her long fingers around Santana's hand.

Before she could answer, her phone rang again, startling them and causing them both to jump. Santana grabbed it and answered, "Hello?"

"Santana?"

"Yes," the brunette confirmed.

"This is Dr. Yates…my service gave me your message. You've experienced some recent bleeding?"

"Yes, tonight," she replied, "I didn't know what to do so I called."

"You did the right thing," the doctor told her, "Is the bleeding heavy?"

"Not that much, no."

"Has it been for very long?"

Santana thought back to when she first went to the bathroom and saw the blood, responding, "A couple of hours, I think."

"Are you having any cramping?" Dr. Yates asked.

Brittany watched her wife bite at her lower lip while she answered into the phone, "Earlier I was but not right now."

"I know that seeing blood is instantly scary, but I want to reassure you that this happens in most pregnancies at some point. Bleeding doesn't automatically indicate that something is wrong with the fetus," Dr. Yates explained confidently, "I'm going to have you come to the office first thing in the morning, and we'll do an ultrasound to rule out any concerns, ok?"

"Ok," Santana stated, thankful for the doctor's optimism.

"If anything changes during the night or you start cramping more…just go straight to the ER and have them call me," Dr. Yates instructed.

"Ok."

"Try to relax and get some sleep, and I'll see you in the morning," the doctor added sweetly.

"Thank you, Doctor," Santana said before she hung up.

Brittany waited for Santana to tell her what they should do next, her stomach twisting with anxiety.

"We wait," the Latina stated bluntly, "She wants to do an ultrasound in the morning."

Brittany nodded and pulled Santana back toward her, squeezing her tightly and thinking that this would be the longest night of their lives.

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday, August 27, 2022<strong>

**3:09 AM**

Brittany woke suddenly in the early hours of Saturday morning, her arm still draped over Santana's firm body as they lay on their sides in the bed. The blonde lifted her head to look at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand, seeing it was shortly after 3 AM.

She did not want to disturb Santana who was finally in a deep sleep, but she really needed to pee so she eased herself carefully over her wife and stepped softly into the bathroom. After shutting the door behind her, Brittany flipped on the interior light then turned to pull down her cotton pajama shorts and sit on the toilet.

Exhaustion had overtaken her physically, mentally, and emotionally the last couple of nights, her mind having a hard time shutting off from her persistent state of worry. She yawned and rubbed her stinging eyes as she peed, looking down to see the bottom of her white tank covered in bright red.

The sight startled her body quicker than her brain could process what she was seeing. She wiped quickly with the paper in her hand, checking to see if she had started her period even though, in the back of her mind, she knew it was two weeks too early for that.

She stood, pulling up her underwear and shorts, seeing more blood on the front portion of her shorts and down the pale skin of her legs. Panicked she opened the bathroom door, the artificial light shining onto Santana who still lay on the outer section of their bed.

Brittany quickly turned on the bedside lamp and slid her arm between Santana and the sheet, pulling back out to find her hand covered in fresh blood.

"Oh god," Brittany shook her wife, "Tan, wake up!"

The Latina stirred slightly, asking groggily, "What?"

"Get up, honey," Brittany tried to stay calm, but she knew she was failing miserably, telling Santana, "Come on…sit up please."

She slid Santana's legs over the side of the bed as the brunette sat up, revealing a pool of blood on the light-colored sheets.

"Santana," Brittany's voice caught in her throat, "You're bleeding again."

Santana looked over her left shoulder to find the bright red on the sheets then she looked down at her slender legs, seeing streaks of blood running down them. She stood up to walk into the bathroom and felt a gush of more blood, lowering herself to the tile of the bathroom floor and crying out, "Brittany!"

Brittany went into automatic response mode, picking up her cell phone from the nightstand and dialing 911, knowing they had no other way to get to the hospital.

"Just stay still, honey…you'll be okay," she moved to the doorway of the bathroom as she listened to the phone line ring, leaning down to kiss the top of Santana's head, stammering, "everything…everything will be okay."

As she waited for the standard 911 operator "what is your emergency?" greeting, the blonde moved toward the front door of the apartment, unlocking the deadbolts and stepping out into the hallway. Brittany dashed down the flight of stairs to the fifth floor as she answered the operator's series of questions, telling the woman on the other side of the call that her wife was thirteen weeks pregnant and woke up bleeding.

"Yes, it's a lot of blood. It's everywhere," Brittany responded.

"Where is your wife now?"

"She's in our bathroom," Brittany answered, pounding on Grayson's front door as she repeated the address of their apartment building, "_Please_ hurry."

"Stay calm, ma'am…an emergency response team has already been dispatched. Someone will be there in a few minutes," the woman advised, "Stay on the line with me until they arrive."

Brittany pounded again on the door with her fist, "Grayson!"

She repeated internally, _please be home, please be home, please be home_.

Seconds later, the hall light over apartment #5C came on, and the door opened. Grayson stood there in pajama pants and no shirt, looking freshly-woken from sleep.

"Brittany?"

"Santana…is um," Brittany tripped over her words, having trouble pushing air through her lungs, "She's…um…."

Grayson could see the phone in Brittany's hand and the blood on her clothes, "Slow down...tell me what's happening."

"It's the baby," Brittany finally broke, tears falling down her face.

Grayson took a calming breath, hugging her with one arm and taking the phone with his other hand, "Hello?"

"Yes? This is 911," the operator re-identified herself.

"I'm their neighbor…I'll wait outside the building for the paramedics," Grayson offered, confirming the nearest cross-streets in order to locate them quickly. He grabbed his house keys off the table near the front door, closing it behind him. As he started down the stairs, he said, "Brittany, go back up to Santana. She needs you with her."

* * *

><p><strong>4:31 AM<strong>

Brittany Lopez-Pierce sat in the main ER waiting area, biting her fingernails and staring off into space. She barely had time to go back upstairs and pull on a pair of black sweat pants and step into a pair of flip-flops before the ambulance arrived. She'd even walked out without her wallet when she followed behind the paramedics who lowered Santana on a stretcher down the six flights of stairs.

After riding with them to the hospital, she was told to wait out in the lobby once the nurses took over Santana's care. Thankfully, she still had her phone with her, so she was able to call her mom as soon as she had a moment to think.

Brittany had a hard time recounting the chaos of the last few hours to her mom, her emotions finally overpowering her need to stay calm for Santana. Meghan Pierce did her best to comfort her daughter from Ohio, trying to reassure her by recalling that she too had some bleeding when she carried Emily.

Before ending the phone call, Brittany made her mom promise not to tell Daniel and Trey Berry until she knew more information.

The young blonde felt a soft tap on her exposed shoulder and heard a voice say, "Ms. Lopez-Pierce?"

Brittany looked up to see a dark-skinned woman in light blue scrubs. "Yes?"

"Dr. Yates is here now, and they're running tests," the nurse informed her, "Is there anything we can get for you?"

Brittany looked down at her white tank with a large bloodstain on it, requesting, "Do you have anything I could change into? I don't want my wife to see this."

"Sure," the nurse smiled sympathetically, "We have some donated clothes behind the nurses' station. Let me see what I can find for you."

"Thank you," Brittany replied, fighting back tears.

"I'll be right back," the woman squeezed the blonde's shoulder.

Brittany looked around the half-full waiting area, seeing Grayson returning from the restroom.

"Here," he said, handing her one of the two small cups in his hand, "I couldn't find coffee, but I had enough coins for one soda out of the vending machine. I thought we could split it."

"Thanks," Brittany said, grateful for anything wet to soothe her scratchy throat. She took a sip then another, the sugar giving her body a much-needed boost of energy.

Grayson drank from his cup as he watched his friend chew nervously on her thumb, her right leg shaking up and down while she fidgeted silently in the seat across from him. He did not know what to say to her at this point, so he said nothing.

The two of them sat there for several minutes until Maribel and Hector Lopez suddenly appeared.

"Brittany," Maribel walked over to the blonde and sat down beside her, putting her arms around her.

"My mom called you, didn't she?"

"She didn't want you to be alone while you waited," Mrs. Lopez replied, "Have you heard anything at all?"

"Her doctor is examining her…that's all I know," Brittany said, leaning her head over onto her mother-in-law's shoulder.

"Hector?" his wife looked up at the tall doctor.

"Let me see what I can find out," Santana's father told them, a somber look on his face.

After he walked away, Brittany felt like she should tell them that she didn't want him there, but she was just too despondent to care. It wasn't but a minute more before the nurse returned with a white t-shirt that was sealed in a clear plastic bag.

"Here you go," she handed it to Brittany, "Large is the smallest we had left."

"Thanks," Brittany accepted the t-shirt with a forced smile to be polite.

"The restrooms are down that hallway whenever you want to change," the nurse said, "We'll let you know when you can see her."

They all nodded as she walked away.

Maribel looked at Brittany's stained shirt, and her heart sank, remembering when she miscarried her son though she was further along than Santana was now. "Why don't you go ahead and change, sweetheart," Mrs. Lopez suggested, "So you'll be ready when they take you back there."

"Ok," Brittany agreed obediently, having a hard time forming a thought on her own. She stood and handed her cup to Grayson then went around the corner, following the signs that pointed toward the restrooms.

Once inside, she went into the end stall, peeing first then taking the t-shirt out of its wrapper. She unfolded it, seeing there was a large advertisement on its back for a nearby Church of God with their address, telephone number, and the phrase _Whenever you're lost…the Light of God will guide you home_.

It was the first thing all night that struck her as being sort of funny. Not in a humorous fashion, but in an ironically, self-righteous fashion, causing Brittany to roll her eyes and chuckle to herself.

The blonde sighed, removing her tank and pulling the t-shirt over her head. She put the stained shirt inside the plastic and opened the stall door to throw it away in the trash bin.

When Brittany saw her reflection in the large mirror above the sink, she chuckled again at just how big the shirt was on her trim body. She also noticed how weary she appeared, examining her face as she washed her hands, scrubbing at them with extra soap on a paper towel to remove some of the maroon streaks of dried blood from her pale skin and fingernails. _That will have to do, I guess_, she thought as she threw away the towel and opened the door.

As Brittany rounded the corner, heading back to the lobby, she saw Dr. Yates standing with Santana's parents. She quickened her stride, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Hi, Brittany," Dr. Yates smiled as she walked up to them which the blonde took as a good sign.

"How's Santana?" she asked immediately, looking nervously from Dr. Yates over to Grayson then back toward Mrs. and Mr. Lopez.

"She's resting. The bleeding has stopped, but I'm going to admit her for observation," Dr. Yates advised.

"Okay…," Brittany swallowed hard before asking, "…and the baby?"

"I'm so sorry, Brittany," Dr. Yates replied sympathetically, "There's no heartbeat."

Brittany stood frozen for a moment, not registering any particular emotion, as Dr. Yate's words hung in the air. She felt the doctor pat her shoulder and say something about "visitors" and "soon" before she walked away. She sensed motion around her as she saw Mrs. Lopez sit on a nearby chair, wiping at her face with a white tissue.

"Do you want to sit down?" Grayson asked cautiously, but Brittany shook her head no.

"I'm sorry, Brittany," Hector Lopez said, reaching out to put his arm around her in an attempt to comfort his daughter-in-law.

She tilted her head to look up at him, tears filling her blue eyes and her voice shaking as she told him, "I hate you. I hate that I have to share this moment with you."

Brittany took three steps forward and collapsed into Grayson's arms, crying uncontrollably.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I am truly sorry to each of you who hoped this wouldn't happen. This chapter affected me deeply as I wrote it, but please trust me. Life is a journey, and the best parts don't always happen at the exact moment we want them.

If you have something you want to say to me then please leave a review or send me a private message. Thank you for continuing on this journey with me. Kim


	11. Loss

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 11)**

_I wish I could do better by you,_

'C_ause that's what you deserve_

_You sacrifice so much of your life_

_In order for this to work…_

_While I'm off chasing my own dreams_

_Sailing around the world_

_Please know that I'm yours to keep_

_My beautiful girl…_

_When you cry a piece of my heart dies_

_Knowing that I may have been the cause_

_If you were to leave_

_Fulfill someone else's dreams_

_I think I might totally be lost…_

_You don't ask for no diamond rings_

_No delicate strings of pearls_

_That's why I wrote this to sing_

_My beautiful girl…._

(The Girl ~ City and Colour)

**Saturday, August 27, 2022**

**5:28 AM**

Brittany took a deep breath before she pushed on the door of Santana's ER exam room. She barely had time herself to absorb the news about the miscarriage before the nurse appeared again to tell her Dr. Yates was ready to speak to Santana and wanted Brittany to be present.

Thankfully, Santana's parents made a hasty exit without asking to see their daughter. Brittany did not care if she ever saw Hector Lopez again though she felt bad about Mrs. Lopez getting caught in the middle once more. Santana's mom had proven to be very supportive of the girls during the planning stage of their wedding and the years that followed.

When Brittany walked in the room, she saw her wife curled on her left side under a light-weight hospital blanket. Santana looked so small and fragile that the blonde's legs weakened under her and her bottom lip quivered, her fortitude immediately wavering. She was grateful the brunette was facing the opposite direction so she could pause a second and take a settling breath, willing herself to be strong for Santana.

"Hey, sweetheart," Brittany said sweetly, her voice catching in her throat, as she walked up and ran a soft caress down the back of her wife's head, causing Santana to turn and look up at her.

Brittany surveyed the Latina's face which was usually so beautiful and brown, finding it tearstained and pale from the loss of blood. Santana looked as depleted as Brittany felt. What stood out to the blonde though were Santana's chocolate-colored eyes, because they were now dazed and nearly vacant.

The nurse told Brittany as she escorted her to see her wife that nobody notified her yet of the miscarriage, but Santana's eyes could not conceal from Brittany the fact that, internally, she already knew.

"Are you in any pain?" Brittany asked timidly, not knowing really what to say, as she brushed Santana's dark locks out of her face.

She shook her head no.

Brittany looked around the small exam room and saw a chair against the wall so she pulled it over to sit next to Santana. "Dr. Yates said she would be here in a few minutes to talk to us," Brittany informed Santana, trying to speak slowly and gently.

Santana nodded and cast her gaze downward.

Brittany swallowed hard before continuing, "They wanted to give me a chance to talk to you first though."

Brittany lowered the silver railing on the gurney then took her wife's hand, pulling it up to her lips and kissing it as her mind searched for the appropriate words. The longer the room was silent, the more Brittany could feel her emotions trying to overtake her, so she went down the path of direct honesty, "Santana…I'm sorry, but..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Santana reached up and put her fingertips over Brittany's mouth, softly pleading, "Don't say it. Please…please don't say it."

Brittany couldn't hold onto her tears any longer, and she felt them roll down her face and off the end of her nose as she repeated, "I am so sorry."

Santana started crying too, telling her wife, "I tried so hard for us."

"I know you did, honey," Brittany leaned toward the brunette, putting her arms around her shoulders, their foreheads touching, "and I love you so _very_ much for it."

The couple cried together for several minutes, not having any more words to ease each other's loss.

There was a knock on the wooden door before it opened, and Dr. Samantha Yates walked in with a clip board in her hand. She gave the girls a sympathetic smile as they looked over at her.

"I know this is difficult," she validated as she stepped to the bed, patting Brittany's shoulder then reaching down to pat Santana's lower leg.

"I should have called you sooner," Santana acknowledged, her voice cracking as her throat strained to force out the words she tried to speak, "I knew things felt different for a couple of days."

"Don't second-guess yourself, Santana," the doctor attempted to soothe her patient's doubts, "When this occurs, there is usually little we can do medically to prevent it."

"My body failed again," the brunette declared, fresh tears escaping her eyes, "and this time, my baby paid the price."

"Honey, don't think like that," Brittany wanted to reassure her, "This is not _your_ fault…it's not anybody's fault."

"You'll be more comfortable once you get into a room," Dr. Yates advised, smiling sympathetically toward Santana and Brittany, "As soon as they locate one for you then they will get you moved upstairs."

"Do you think she'll be able to go home tomorrow?" Brittany asked.

"I'll be by to see you in the morning. We'll see how things look then, ok?"

Santana nodded at the doctor then leaned again into Brittany.

* * *

><p><strong>8:11 AM<strong>

Santana was finally assigned to a room on the fifth floor of the hospital by seven o'clock that morning. It was a double room, but fortunately, there was nobody in the other bed at this point to disturb her.

Brittany sat in a padded chair at the side of Santana's bed with her feet tucked up under her as she leaned on the arm of the chair, feeling so tired that she was no longer sure if her eyes were actually opened or if she were dreaming all of the activity from the nurses and hospital staff who came in and out to get Santana settled.

"You need to go home and get some sleep," Santana nudged Brittany's elbow.

The blonde shook her head and yawned to give herself a jolt and force her eyes wide.

"You have to be rested enough to dance by two thirty," Santana reminded, her voice still weak.

Brittany leaned forward and took Santana's right hand, rubbing the pad of her thumb over the brunette's knuckles, wanting desperately to pull her close and protect her from all that was happening.

"Britt…," the Latina prodded.

"I already called Dominic and told him I need a replacement for today and tomorrow," the blonde revealed.

"Why would you do that?" Santana reacted, "The chorus needs you."

"Because…my place is with my wife," Brittany assured her, "I think you need me more than they do."

"I'm fine, Brittany," Santana pulled her hand away.

The blonde narrowed her eyes, unsure if Santana was overeating or if her own senses were just heightened. "Don't you want me here?"

"I don't need you to hold a bedside vigil over me," Santana declared as her fingers played with a loose thread on her beige blanket, adding, "I'm not the one who died."

Brittany bit at the corner of her lower lip, the harshness of Santana's statement stinging. "You're sure you don't want any of this?" Brittany asked her wife, motioning to the breakfast tray that sat untouched on top of the bed's table.

"No…take it away please," Santana said softly then turned over onto her other side, facing toward the window.

Brittany took a deep breath and picked it up, carrying the tray out into the hallway to put it on a nearby food storage cart. As she turned, she saw Grayson coming down the hall with Rachel Berry, the two of them moving slowly and looking at the room numbers.

"Hey, we're down here," Brittany waived to get their attention.

Rachel walked ahead of Grayson and immediately put her arms around her sister-in-law's waist, saying sincerely, "I'm sorry, Brittany."

The blonde nodded and hugged her back, responding, "I've heard that a lot this morning."

"I wish I knew something better to say," Rachel confessed, looking up at Grayson who looked as exhausted and disheveled as Brittany looked in her black sweat pants and oversized white t-shirt.

"I know, Rach, and we both really appreciate your love and support," Brittany acknowledged, knowing Santana would find comfort in Rachel's presence, "Let's try not to focus on what happen around Santana, ok?"

Rachel agreed, taking Grayson by the hand and following the taller girl back inside Santana's room. She swallowed back tears as soon as she saw her sister in the hospital bed, reminding herself to be steadfast for Santana. The tiny Diva walked up to the Latina and kissed her cheek.

Santana turned and said, "Hey."

"Hi…I brought a couple of the magazines I know you love," Rachel said in an upbeat tone, pulling them from her large purse, "I also brought a book. I can read to you if you want…or you can read to yourself…whichever you prefer. Oh, and I called ahead for a delivery of sandwiches for everyone's lunch later…from _your_ favorite deli, of course. I can only imagine how awful the hospital food is here."

"Rachel, stop talking," Santana paused the charade, turning onto her back and reaching out her arms, "Just be quiet and come hold me."

The smaller brunette sat on the side of the hospital bed and squeezed Santana tightly, her brave front crumbling as her voice trembled, "I'm just so heartbroken for you guys."

"I know," Santana confirmed, squeezing back.

"I love you," Rachel said the only thing she knew to say, "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Santana replied, telling her, "Thank you for coming."

"I'm going to sit here with you as long as you need me, ok? All day long."

"Wait, all day? You need to transform into Fanny Brice in a few hours," Santana reminded her.

"No, I told them I need to be with my family today," she replied without hesitation.

"First Brittany calls in…and now you?" Santana lamented, shaking her head, "Alton and Gale are going to hate me."

"Nobody is going to hate anybody, honey," Brittany told her, folding her long leg under as she sat on the other side of Santana's bed, "Dom was very supportive when I called."

"Alton was really sweet when I called too, Santana," Rachel said firmly with a smile, rubbing the Latina's arm, "He said…'that's what understudies are for, dear'."

"Okay then…," Santana relented, instructing, "…Britt…Grayson…you two need to go home and get some sleep."

"Yeah, I need to get cleaned up for an Ad pitch we're doing for some international clients," Grayson let them know.

"Then go…I'll be fine. Rachel will stay with me."

"I don't want to leave you, honey," Brittany shook her head.

"Gray…take her home. Please?" Santana insisted.

"Brittany, you look even more exhausted than I feel," Grayson confirmed delicately, "Let's go get some rest and you can come back later."

She held onto her wife's hand, careful not to dislodge the IV line taped to the top of it, confiding, "I _need _to be with you."

Santana paused. She felt rather detached from everything that happened over the last few hours, wanting to just shut out the world at this point, but when she looked up at Brittany, Santana could see such pain and worry in her wife's face.

She sighed heavily and pulled Brittany toward her, reminding her, "I love you. I need you to take care of yourself so I can lean on you."

Brittany looked over at Rachel who smiled and nodded encouragingly then she looked back at Santana, kissing her and running a soft touch down her cheek.

"Go home, babe," Santana pushed one more time.

Brittany took a deep breath, feeling fatigue throughout her entire body, and finally relented, "Okay."

* * *

><p><strong>9:00 AM<strong>

Brittany ultimately appreciated an opportunity to take a cab with Grayson from the hospital back to their building once she remembered she forgot her wallet inside her apartment.

"You have your house key with you, right?" he clarified as they got out of the cab's backseat.

Brittany patted her sweatpants even though there were no pockets in them. "Uh…no," she responded, "I don't think I even locked the front door when I walked out."

Grayson grimaced, knowing how chaotic the scene had been, as he pulled his set of keys from the front pocket of the jeans he threw on before hurrying to join Brittany at the hospital.

When they stepped up onto the stoop of the building, Brittany looked back at the typically mundane side street, picturing the flashing lights of the ambulance in the early morning dark and thinking how quickly things transition from normalcy to things never being the same again.

"Come on," Grayson prompted, holding open the front door of the building.

The two climbed the stairs to the fifth floor, pausing on the landing in front of Grayson's apartment.

"Will you be okay?" he asked his upstairs neighbor.

"Yeah," she told him weakly, the climb up the stairs being nearly too much for her tired body.

"You're sure?"

She forced a smile, answering, "Yeah."

"I'm going to take a power nap before I shower and head to the office. I've got that presentation at noon," he reminded her, "I'll have my cell though if you need me."

Brittany turned back before moving up the next flight of stairs, "Thank you for all your help, Gray."

"I wish I could have done more," he smiled sympathetically at his friend.

Brittany nodded, replying, "Get some sleep."

When she reached her front door, sure enough, it was unlocked. She saw her keys still hanging on the hook where she last put them, and she crouched to the floor and checked inside her dance bag, finding her wallet in its usual place.

Brittany stood up and stopped in the middle of the sunlit apartment, not moving, not looking around, without any real thought forming inside her head to influence what her next action should be. Her stomach rumbled from hunger, but she ignored it, staring straight ahead as her eyes scanned the space in front of her. The room around her seemed foreign to her now, especially without Santana there. Everything seemed so different even though everything was exactly the same.

She blinked several times in quick succession, feeling her eyes sting, remembering she was headed to lie down before she stopped. When Brittany reached their bed and saw the dried blood on the white floral sheets, the totality of what happened finally consumed her and she dropped to her knees on the floor, pulling the dirty sheet off of the bed and clutching it to her chest.

The only time Brittany experienced loss in her life was when she was twelve and her grandfather died suddenly from a heart attack. She remembered everyone around her talking about how he loved his family and lived a long, wonderful life. She also remembered Santana being there to comfort her.

This felt entirely different though. Loss of a child, even an unborn child, was more devastating than imaginable to Brittany, because it meant the loss of potential. Any potential of seeing what their child might look like or how their child might sound and any potential of who their child might grow to be was gone, leaving only a deep ache in Brittany's gut.

She bent over, folding her arms around her mid-section, caving into the ache. The more Brittany tried not to cry out, to suck the pain back inside, the more it fought against her to break through to the surface until the pain finally escaped as a wail from the deepest part of her.

* * *

><p><strong>9:51 AM<strong>

"Eli!" Frap yelled from behind the restaurant bar.

"What?" the young Hispanic guy appeared from the kitchen.

"I need you to go down to the basement and get that case of Corona to ice down," Frap instructed him, handing over his personal key to the store room, "This should have been done already…we're about to open."

"Sorry, Frap," the NYU student grimaced as he apologized, "I got sidetracked with set up."

"Don't apologize…just move," Frap snipped, shaking his head and walking toward the front of the restaurant.

When Frap got to the entrance, he was surprised to see Brittany Lopez-Pierce standing there.

"Hey, kiddo," the older man greeted her with a giant smile, busying himself with a stack of menus, assuming she was there to pick up brunch to take home. When she didn't move or respond, he looked again at her, observing her greasy, blonde hair pulled into a tousled ponytail and her mismatched outfit, "You look like yesterday's dog shit."

"Thanks," Brittany shrugged, confessing, "It's been a long night."

"Just coming in from partying?" Frap teased, knowing Brittany's social life was much tamer in the last few years.

Brittany reached up and hugged her former boss and friend, crying into his shoulder.

"Hey, what in the world is this about?" Frap returned the hug, patting her softly on her back.

Her emotions were now on autopilot, and all she could do was cry harder.

"Shhhh, sweetheart," he tried to soothe her, "It can't be all _that_ bad, can it?"

It took her a couple of minutes to compose herself to be able to tell him, "Santana's in the hospital."

"Oh no, what happen?"

Brittany wiped at her eyes and nose while tears and snot started running down over her lips as she tried to talk more. "She lost the baby."

"Brittany, I'm so sorry," Frap replied.

She nodded, "Yeah, I know…everyone is sorry."

The gray-haired man sighed, "Not much can be said to ease this sort of pain, sweetheart."

"I know," she sniffed hard, her head pounding from all the crying she had done in the last half-hour.

Frap pulled her by the hand and sat her down at a table near the bar, giving her a glass of water. "Have you eaten?"

"No," she answered after she took a long drink of the clear liquid.

"Sit tight," he instructed, walking toward the pick-up window in front of the kitchen. He reappeared quickly with a plate of Mexican rice. "Eat some of this."

"My stomach hurts," she told him, "Actually…my everything hurts."

He unrolled a fork from a red, cloth napkin and handed it to her, "Eat."

She stared back at him, internally assessing if she could hold down solids.

"Don't make me feed you from the flying airplane spoon like I did with my nephews," Frap said in his typical Louisiana drawl.

She accepted the fork from him and took a couple of bites, remembering she always liked the rice at Caliente and certainly ate enough of it over the past eight years since first waitressing there.

"Still good?" he asked.

She nodded, taking another bite.

His heart hurt for his young friend as he watched her hand shake with each bite. Frap was always the type to make quick conclusions about people and places which is exactly how he decided to buy the Caliente Cab Co. He loved it, so he bought it. He was the same with the people in his life. Either he liked you or you hated him because he had no use for you.

With Brittany though, he more than liked her. He adored her immediately upon meeting her, because she was nearly as quirky as he was. He also saw over the years that she had a heart of gold.

"Why did you come here?" he inquired.

"I went home first when I left the hospital," she paused to take another drink of water, hoping it would keep her from crying again when she thought of the blood, "There was just so much blood. It was all on the bed…on the floor…everywhere."

"Oh sweetheart," he grimaced.

"I'm just so exhausted, Frap…but I couldn't stay there and clean it up," she confided, tears reappearing in her bright blue eyes, "Not today."

There was a noise of someone coming up the basement stairs behind them. Frap turned to see Eli struggling with the case of beer bottles, moving toward the nearby bar.

After the young guy set the box on the floor, he handed back the key ring to Frap, "Here ya go."

"Thanks," the older man said, "Get them on ice then cover the front for me."

Brittany took another few bites of rice as she watched Frap remove a key from his key ring before handing it to the blonde.

"You need rest so you can be strong for your wife," he acknowledged with a warm smile, "Take this extra key and let yourself into my apartment. There's a soft bed in the guest room. There's even a bathtub in the guest bath…go soak and clean up, and then you can get some sleep."

"Frap…," Brittany shook her head, "I didn't come here looking for a handout."

"Good, cause I ain't no charity," he winked at her.

"Are you sure?"

He stood up and put his arm around her shoulders, "I love you, kid…and I hate like hell what happened, so let me do something to help you feel better."

Brittany hugged her former boss once again, responding, "Thank you so much."

"Stay as long as you need," he told her.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday, August 28, 2022<strong>

**10:37 AM**

Santana opened her eyes Sunday morning to see Quinn Fabray sitting in the chair next to her bed.

"What are you doing here?" Santana asked her best friend.

Quinn smiled sweetly and closed her book, setting it in her lap. "I know you told me not to come, but I felt like I needed to be here with you guys."

Santana sighed and pushed the button on her railing to raise the top portion of her bed, "Where did Brittany go?"

"She went down the hall to return some paperwork to your nurse," Quinn replied, "Do you need something? I can get it for you."

The brunette shook her head.

"You sure? Water? Anything?"

"Q, stop. You're as bad as Rachel," Santana quipped, "I couldn't move all day yesterday without her wanting to refluff my pillow."

"We just want to do something…_anything_…to make you feel better," Quinn admitted.

"It's okay. I'm good," Santana told her, putting her hand over on Quinn's hand, "I just wish the doctor would come by and release me."

The door to her room opened as Brittany returned.

"Damn," Santana said, "I was hoping you were Dr. Yates."

"Sorry," Brittany responded with a slight smile.

"Would everybody stop saying that to me?" the Latina requested loudly, extreme frustration in her tone, "Sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry. For christ's sake, sorry does nothing for me."

Quinn and Brittany froze and looked at each other.

"Santana, calm down please," Quinn requested softly.

"Well, I'm so sick of hearing that word," the brunette retorted angrily, "Sorry doesn't bring my baby back!"

There was a silence that fell over the former high school cheerleaders.

Brittany finally stated softly, "It was my baby too, Santana."

Santana hung her head, realizing what she said hurt her wife.

Brittany circled around to the other side and crawled up on the bed next to Santana, pulling her over onto her, needing desperately to reconnect with her beloved, "I know you're hurting, Santana, but you're not alone in this."

Santana melted into Brittany's long body and started crying, losing some of her pent up anger and telling her, "I love you, Britt."

"I love you too," the blonde assured her, "No matter what…you will always have _me_, ok?"

The couple held each other close for several minutes until the ring of a cell phone broke the silence.

Brittany pushed herself up on her elbow to look over Santana at the bedside table where the Latina's phone was sitting while Quinn dug inside her purse.

"It's mine," Quinn announced, hearing it louder as she grabbed it and pulled it out, looking at the incoming number.

"Aren't you going to answer it?" Santana asked, looking back over her shoulder at her best friend.

"I don't know this number that keeps calling me," Quinn sounded agitated as the phone went silent, lighting the screen and reading the area code, "It's a 347 number?"

"That's New York City," Brittany told her, "What do they say when they call?"

"Nothing…that's just it. They've called me several times this past week, but they never say anything and they never leave a message."

Santana thought back. She wondered to herself…_Could it be, Cate_?

"Uhh, Quinn…," the brunette turned in the bed toward the blonde professor, "I didn't tell you this when it happened…maybe I should have."

"What?" Quinn narrowed her eyes, unsure exactly where Santana was going with her statement.

"A few days ago, I uh…I ran into Cate at a bakery…near our apartment," Santana revealed.

"What? You never mentioned it to me either," Brittany sounded as shocked as Quinn looked.

"What did you say to her? What did she say to you?" Quinn uncrossed her legs and sat forward in the chair, "Is everything okay with her?"

"She looked great," Santana recounted, "She lives in the West Village now. I gave her your cell number before she walked away."

"Did she ask about me?" Quinn bit at her lip, unsure she wanted the answer.

Santana grimaced before responding hesitantly, "She was with somebody."

Quinn's heart sunk as quickly as her hopes had risen.

"Call the number back, Q," Brittany suggested.

Quinn sat there pondering the possible outcomes before saying timidly, "Should I?"

Santana and Brittany both nodded.

"What do you have to lose?" Santana ventured, wanting to see Quinn as happy as she had been when she was with Cate.

Quinn unlocked her iPhone and swallowed hard, her mouth feeling quite dry at the prospect of this number leading her to Cate. She pulled up her list of missed calls, selecting the 347 number then hitting redial.

She slowly put the phone to her ear, feeling her heart thumping in her chest as she waited. Quinn's green eyes scanned nervously back and forth from Santana to Brittany until finally there was a voice that answered, "Hello?"

Quinn's breath caught in the back of her throat as she said, "Cate?"

There was a long pause before the voice on the other end replied, "Hi, Quinn."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: The response to the events in Chapter 10 was overwhelming. As upset as you guys were, you never faltered in your support of this story. Thank you so much for that.

Please keep in mind that the original characters I create and the other Glee characters such as Rachel and Quinn are weaved throughout this story for specific reasons. I hope readers will find that these non-Brittana characters come into play in unique and interesting ways just I did with the additional characters in Her Smile Heals Me. Everyone was there for a purpose. Nobody was written as filler. I leave that to the creators and writers of the actual Glee series.

To address specific concerns raised that KMWTLI is not focused enough on Brittany and Santana, allow me to point out that Brittany and Santana are now adults and live in NYC and have independent lives which bring them into contact with other people just like each of us in our daily lives.

How are they to get from point A to point B to point C without talking to their best friends, their family members, co-workers, and/or their neighbors or shop keepers or students or anyone else with whom they come into contact? I can't realistically have them link pinkies as 28-year-olds then skip through Manhattan doing every single thing together nor can I base an entire multi-chapter story on Brittany and Santana locked together in a basement and only speaking to each other while cuddling.

Please trust me enough as the writer of this story to have the big picture in mind. I know you guys want them to be happy, and I know you guys want to see them interact. To have a well-rounded fic though, I need to paint a colorful and interesting picture. As you read each post, you are only getting a glimpse at sections of this larger painting. I promise you, once it is completed, it will all make sense. I won't let you guys down, ok?

Anyway, moving on…if you enjoyed this chapter or have any comments then please leave a review. I do indeed read and consider them all when writing the next chapters. Thanks again for your support! Kim


	12. Things That You Miss

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 12)**

_Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry_

_You don't know how lovely you are_

_I had to find you, tell you I need you_

_Tell you I set you apart_

_Tell me your secrets, and ask me your questions_

_Oh let's go back to the start_

_Running in circles, coming up tails_

_Heads on a science apart…_

_Nobody said it was easy_

_It's such a shame for us to part_

_Nobody said it was easy_

_No one ever said it would be this hard_

_Oh, take me back to the start…_

_I was just guessing at numbers and figures_

_Pulling the puzzles apart_

_Questions of science, science and progress_

_Do not speak as loud as my heart_

_And tell me you love me, come back and haunt me_

_Oh and I rush to the start_

_Running in circles, chasing our tails_

_Coming back as we are…_

_Nobody said it was easy_

_Oh it's such a shame for us to part_

_Nobody said it was easy_

_No one ever said it would be so hard_

_I'm going back to the start…._

(The Scientist ~ Coldplay)

**Sunday, August 28, 2022**

**5:06 PM**

Brittany Lopez-Pierce sat quietly in the back seat of a New York City taxi cab, watching her wife play with the bottom hem of her cotton t-shirt as they rode down the streets of lower Manhattan. Santana had not said much to Brittany since Dr. Yates came by to examine and release the Latina earlier in the day.

The doctor confirmed that Santana's bleeding had stopped because the pregnancy had fully terminated on its own, requiring no further medical intervention. It was a hard thing for either of them to hear, but Brittany was grateful that at least Santana could return home Sunday evening.

She slid her hand across the seat of the cab to take Santana's hand in hers, startled slightly when the Latina flinched at the contact and pulled her hand away. Brittany sighed softly and adjusted back in her seat as she watched Santana turn toward the passenger window, looking at the passing buildings.

It was a beautiful late summer evening with the sun still hanging low in the sky. Brittany caught a glimpse of the bright orange ball of light every other block or so as it peeked through spaces between some of the City's structures.

Once the cab driver arrived in front of their building, Brittany handed over some cash, telling him, "Thank you. Keep the change."

She walked up the steps of the stoop to open the front door, looking back to find Santana staring out into the tranquil street. Knowing how hard it was herself to come home on Saturday and attempt to blend back into normal surroundings, Brittany waited patiently and watched her wife for a few seconds until she turned back around.

"Coming?" Brittany asked gently.

Santana didn't give a verbal answer, but she stepped up the few steps and passed through the open door that Brittany held for her.

The blonde followed behind the Latina as they started the long ascent up to their sixth floor apartment. She noticed her wife slow and grimace around the third floor landing, and she asked her, "Are you going to make it?"

Santana nodded and responded, "Yeah."

Brittany saw the brunette brace her weight a little more than usual on the railing as they went further up, practically pulling her body by the final flight.

She started to make another comment about the difficult climb but decided that any humor was either poorly-timed or lost on Santana at this point, so Brittany remained quiet as she pulled out her keys and unlocked the two deadbolts.

Stepping aside, she motioned for Santana to enter ahead of her then she closed and locked the door again before hanging up her keys and setting down Santana's hospital bag.

"Want anything to eat?" Brittany asked for lack of a better topic, not feeling very hungry herself.

"No," Santana said over her shoulder as she moved toward the corner of the apartment that made up their bedroom.

"Thirsty?" Brittany called to her, noticing the apartment seemed a little warm and stuffy.

"No," Santana's answer did not change as she stood and looked at the double bed.

Brittany went over and raised the window over the couch to release some of the warm August air then stood back to observe Santana some more, searching for any cue as to what she should do or say next to reorient them as a couple.

The blonde was seeking any gesture or phrase from Santana that would reset them back into their marital routine. So far there was nothing recognizable from the girl Brittany typically knew so well.

The longer Santana stood in one spot, staring at their bed, the more nervous Brittany found herself getting. She realized she was holding her breath, waiting for Santana to react, and hoping her efforts of cleaning and sanitizing their bedroom and bathroom were enough to offset any breakdown by her wife.

Santana eventually turned around and asked bluntly, "You already washed the bed linens?"

"Umm…actually, I just threw them out," Brittany was thrown off slightly by Santana's question and accusatory tone.

"You threw them out?" Santana narrowed her eyes.

Brittany closed some of the gap between her and her wife, explaining, "I wanted to have everything cleaned and fresh for you when you got home."

"But why did you throw them out?"

The blonde hesitated with her answer, swallowing hard, "It just seemed…easier…I guess."

"What if I wanted to keep them, Britt?" Santana now seemed irrationally aggravated, "They're _my _sheets too."

Brittany shook her head and tried answering, "I just thought…."

"No, you didn't think, Brittany," Santana cut her off, "You didn't think about maybe what I would want…you could've at least asked."

The tall blonde bit at her bottom lip as warm tears filled her eyes. She stood there stunned, not knowing how to respond. "I'm sorry, Santana," she finally replied, composing herself with a sniff of her nose, "You're right though. I should have asked you first."

Santana turned on her heels and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. 

* * *

><p><strong>6:22 PM<strong>

Quinn Fabray nervously adjusted the skirt of her loose-fitting, pale green dress and pushed up the sleeves on her denim jacket, pausing in the doorway outside a West Village coffee house.

"Excuse me," a young guy said from behind her.

"Oh sorry," she responded politely, stepping aside so he could open the door.

He held it open for her, asking over his shoulder with a smile, "You coming in?"

She hesitated in her reply, her heart leaping forward but her brain keeping her feet planted firmly in place, "Uh, no…thanks."

Quinn turned and stepped back onto the sidewalk, looking down at her watch in the fading evening sun. She was a few minutes early for her six-thirty meeting, standing there unsure as to whether she should go on in or wait until exactly six-thirty so she would not seem too eager.

She pulled her cell phone out of her small handbag, scrolling back through her notes to see the address of the coffee house, then looked up at the street sign. _Yep, this is the place_…she thought to herself, taking a deep breath.

"Quinn?"

The blonde professor turned toward the sound of her name to see Cate Boyd standing there. As nervous as Quinn was, she smiled broadly.

"I was early," she replied, hearing her voice shake, knowing Cate probably heard it too, "I wasn't sure you were here yet." _Relax, Quinn_…she internally instructed.

"Are you ready to go in now?" Cate asked meekly, pointing to the entrance.

Quinn nodded and moved toward the door which opened and the same guy from earlier walked out with a white cardboard cup of coffee in his hand.

They smiled at each other as they passed.

She didn't know what to do next, so she walked up to the counter where there was a small line of people ordering.

Cate stood an awkward distance to the side of Quinn, a little too far to encourage conversation.

When it was their time to order, the younger blonde turned and asked timidly, "Do you still take your coffee the same?"

Cate nodded with a slight smile, "Yeah…the same."

Quinn ordered for them and paid the cashier, waiving off the cash Cate tried to hand her.

"My treat," Quinn confirmed, "You were kind enough to agree to meet me."

"Thanks," Cate told her.

After they got their drink order, they found a small, round table in the back corner. Quinn sat in the chair opposite Cate and crossed her shapely legs at the knees, smoothing out her long skirt over them before taking a small sip of hot tea from her cup.

Both girls sat silently for several seconds.

Quinn watched across at Cate as she turned her paper cup several times, bumping it rhythmically on the table, a nervous habit she clearly had not lost over the last several years.

"I had no idea you were in Manhattan," Quinn started.

Cate shrugged and nodded, "A little over two years."

"I guess I'm just surprised you're not still out in San Francisco," Quinn commented.

"Yeah, that gig didn't really work out," Cate pursed her lips while shaking her head, "My heart just wasn't in it."

Quinn laughed, thinking Cate was making a joke about her heart and San Francisco, until the laughter became uncomfortable because Cate sat there expressionless.

"You look great," Quinn told the older girl, trying to regroup.

"You too," Cate acknowledged her former girlfriend, clearing her throat and arching her back then looking back down at her cup.

"Cate…please look at me," Quinn pleaded.

The older girl lifted her head, locking her gaze with Quinn's green eyes.

"I wish I knew the perfect thing to say to you so this awkwardness would disappear," Quinn confessed.

"It's fine," the brunette dismissed, "What did you want to talk about?"

"Why did you call me?" Quinn inquired.

Cate shifted again in her chair, answering, "I wish like hell I knew."

"Nobody forced you."

"I'm with someone. It's wrong of me to be here," Cate stated, pushing back her chair to stand.

"Wait…," Quinn sat up and grabbed the older girl by the arm, "Please stay."

Cate looked down at Quinn's hand on her arm, and she melted internally under the younger girl's touch, sitting back down in the chair.

"I don't have any words to explain my actions or to make it right again. I don't think I even know why I did what I did at that time, but I just want you to know that I still love you," Quinn staid boldly.

The beautiful brunette stared back at the blonde, her crystal blue eyes revealing nothing.

"I love you, Cate," Quinn repeated with more desperation, adding, "I have spent every day of my life these last few years cursing myself for sending you away…for _hurting _you, and begging fate for a chance…just _one_ chance to tell you how I feel."

"You got your chance then," Cate retorted, standing back up.

"Catherine," Quinn grabbed her ex by the hand, squeezing it tightly as if it were her lifeline.

The older girl sat back down again, slowly pulling her hand away, wrapping it back around her white paper cup.

"What about how I feel?" Cate asked candidly "Oh right…I remember now that my feelings didn't matter much to you."

The Yale professor sighed heavily. "I deserve that. I deserve any anger you have for me," Quinn conceded.

There was a long pause while Cate looked off to the side. "I'm not angry at you," the older girl finally said, "I feel bad for you actually, and all I've ever wanted was for you to be happy in life."

"I was happy when I was with you, Cate."

Cate Boyd leaned back in her chair and nodded, "No amount of accomplishment and recognition replaces being truly loved, does it?"

A tear fell from one of Quinn's green eyes and slowly rolled down her otherwise perfect face, "You don't realize what you have until it's gone."

"I know," Cate smiled. It was the first genuine smile Quinn saw on the brunette's face since they sat down and seeing it made the young blonde's heart soar. 

* * *

><p><strong>10:09 PM<strong>

Santana rolled over in bed Sunday night when a loud screech pulled her from a deep sleep. In a fog of physical exhaustion, she sat up, listening. She heard it again in the distance.

The brunette looked down to see Brittany lying beside her then she heard it again. It sounded as if it were coming from somewhere inside the apartment.

"Britt?" Santana whispered, but the blonde did not respond.

Santana waited a moment, holding her breath. She heard it again. The sound was sort of like a meowing, from a small animal perhaps.

The Latina pushed back the covers and stood, tiptoeing toward the center of the apartment. From the living room, the meowing sounded more like a cry. She stood frozen, listening again. Yes, she heard crying.

She turned around in a full rotation. She heard it again. It was definitely a cry…a tiny but very strong cry.

"Hello?" Santana called out in a hushed voice.

A louder cry answered back.

"Where are you?" she asked.

She moved toward the kitchen, thinking she heard the crying coming from inside the cabinets. As absurd as it seemed, Santana opened the upper cabinets then the lower ones. Finding no source of the crying, she stood back up and turned again toward the living room.

"I can't find you," she yelled out, "Please stop crying."

More crying answered.

"Please stop," Santana moved toward the couch, throwing off the seat cushions in her search, "I want to help you, but I can't find you."

In a panic, she opened the drawers of the clothes chest, pulling out the folded garments. The more she frantically searched, the louder the crying became until it was mentally and physically upsetting to her.

"Stop crying…please!" the brunette hollered, "I'm trying to find you."

Santana's emotions overpowered her, and she tearfully moved about other parts of the apartment, searching and searching, until the crying sounded intensely loud, as if it were inside her head.

"STOP CRYING!" she screamed.

"Santana," Brittany gently shook her wife, causing the Latina to sit straight up in bed with a jolt.

She sat there gasping, breathing heavily in the darkness as her eyes adjusted to the dim light coming in from an outside streetlamp.

"Honey, are you okay?" Brittany inquired, her voice thick with worry.

Santana slowly felt the tightness in her chest release and her breathing return to normal. Everything around her was now silent except for a distant car horn she heard through the open window.

"I heard crying," her voice caught in her throat as she revealed to her wife.

"You were dreaming," Brittany told her, lovingly rubbing her forearm.

"It was the baby crying…but I couldn't find him," she explained, hot tears escaping her eyes.

Brittany pulled her wife into her embrace, wrapping her long arms around her and laying back down on the bed below them. "It's okay, honey," she whispered softly, caressing the back of Santana's head, telling her, "Shhhh. It'll be okay." 

* * *

><p><strong>10:25 PM<strong>

Jess Crawford eased open the front door of her apartment, not wanting to wake her girlfriend when she saw that the apartment lights were off, thinking Cate had already gone to bed.

She set her keys in a bowl on a small, narrow table that was positioned along the entrance wall, kicking off her shoes and hanging her messenger bag on the coat rack. The young girl circled through the living room and picked up a paperback book from the coffee table.

Before she opened the bedroom door, she saw lamp light shining under the crack between the door and the hardwood floor. She turned the knob quietly, knowing the door creaked slightly when opened.

"Oh, you are up," Jess said with surprise at finding Cate Boyd sitting on the foot of the bed, fully dressed.

Cate did not respond, but she did look up at the younger girl as she entered the room.

Jess grinned as she passed up Cate to open the closet door, thinking her girlfriend seemed strange, "Why are you just sitting there like that?"

Cate still did not respond.

"You should have gone to the movies with us, hon…," she said as she pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it toward the wicker laundry basket in the corner of the small bedroom, her sandy-blonde hair settling back around her shoulders as she reached to open the closet door, "You would have enjoyed it, I think."

Cate said nothing about the movie, but she continued to watch Jess, waiting for a response to what was inside the closet.

It took a silent minute or so before Jess turned back around to face Cate, seeing the black suitcase on the floor beside the bed.

"What's going on?" the younger girl asked with tears in her eyes.

Cate took a deep breath and closed her eyes before answering. "I'm leaving."

"Did I do something wrong?"

Cate shook her head, "No, Jess…you didn't do anything wrong. You're wonderful."

It tore at Cate's heart as she sat there and watched large tears roll down Jess' freckled face.

"What then?" she asked, "Did you meet someone else?"

"It has nothing to do with anyone other than myself."

"You met someone, didn't you?" Jess insisted.

Cate looked down at her black boots, rubbing her hands together nervously.

"Did you cheat on me, Cate?" Jess raised her voice.

Cate stood quietly and leaned over to pick up her suitcase.

"Cate! Answer me!" Jess moved closer toward her, taking the suitcase out of the older girl's hand and letting it drop to the floor. "Did you cheat on me with someone?"

"No, Jess…I would never do that," Cate answered honestly.

"Then why are you leaving?" There was desperation in the younger girl's voice, and more tears streamed down her attractive face. "Talk to me about what's going on. We can work through this."

"My mind is made up," Cate told her, "I know this is hard, but I wanted to tell you face to face. I didn't want to just leave while you were gone."

"How noble of you, Catie," Jess spit out with hurt in her tone.

Cate closed her eyes and sighed again, wanting to just fast-forward through all of the drama she was causing.

"Don't you dare shut down on me," Jess warned, "You owe me an explanation."

"There is no explanation, Jess," Cate found herself raising her voice to match Jess', "You deserve better than I can offer you…and you'll never find it if I stay here and continue like this is working when it's not."

"It was working two weeks ago! You had no complaints then," she yelled back at the taller brunette, "What happened? Something happened. Something changed!"

Cate shook her head.

"Don't tell me no! I can pinpoint the exact moment, Cate. It was after we went to that bakery."

"The past has a way of creeping back in, Jess…I can't explain it any other way."

"That makes no sense," Jess cried, collapsing onto the bed.

Cate did not know what more to do. Her head told her that she should comfort the young girl, so she sat down on the side of the bed and rubbed the middle of Jess' bare back, feeling how smooth her youthful skin was, telling her, "I never wanted to hurt you, but I can't stay here with you. I'm very sorry."

Jess sat up and put her arms around Cate's neck, "I love you, Cate. I thought you loved me back."

Cate felt moisture in her eyes, Jess' words tugging at her heart, knowing exactly the sort of hurt the young girl was feeling. The older brunette hugged her back, replying honestly, "I thought I did too." 

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, August 29, 2022<strong>

**9:59 AM**

Santana and Brittany sat on a couch in the hotel lobby, holding hands and waiting for Quinn to come downstairs so they could go to a late breakfast.

They were both dressed very casually in jeans and lightweight summer tops, neither feeling up to much fuss when they got dressed earlier that morning.

Brittany looked at her wife who had her long, dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, reminding the blonde of how Santana looked nearly every day of high school when she wore her Cheerios cheerleading uniform.

"You're sure you feel like doing this?" Brittany asked, squeezing her wife's hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I told you," she smiled, "I'm suddenly very hungry."

"Good," Brittany felt encouraged, feeling her stomach rumble too.

"Besides…I _need_ to be out of that apartment."

Brittany agreed, stating, "Me too."

"I know," Santana acknowledged with a frown, "But let's not think of any of that. Let's just get something to eat and visit with Quinn before she has to go back to New Haven."

Brittany nodded then yawned unexpectedly. "Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry for waking you up last night," Santana told her, her positive energy burst draining at the thought of her nightmare and her tossing and turning the rest of the night.

"Honey, stop it…I love you, and I am here for you, ok?"

Santana smiled at her wife, telling herself internally that she could lean on Brittany for support just as she always had in the past.

"Hey, girls," Quinn Fabray waived as she walked up to them.

The couple stood and hugged her.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I was on a phone call with this woman I'm meeting later this afternoon," the attractive blonde explained, switching her light brown handbag from one shoulder to the other.

"What theatre is it?" Santana asked, not remembering much of their conversation from the hospital on Sunday.

"The Soho Playhouse," Quinn reminded, "She's pretty enthusiastic about meeting with me and showing me around the theatre."

"That would be so wonderful, Q," Brittany commented, "We'd love to have you live in the City nearer to us."

Quinn grinned broadly, "It would be pretty cool, huh?"

"The Unholy Trinity back together again," Santana joked with a wink.

Brittany smiled too just at seeing a genuine smile on Santana's face.

"Ok, let's eat…I'm starved," Quinn suggested, moving toward the front doors of the hotel.

Brittany slipped her long arm around Santana's waist as they fell in behind Quinn, protectively pulling the brunette closer into her body.

As the three of them exited the hotel, stepping out onto the front sidewalk, Quinn halted abruptly, causing Brittany and Santana to bump into the back of her.

Neither of them realized why their best friend stopped short in front of them until they looked across the wide sidewalk to see a very pretty brunette leaned nonchalantly against the metal lamppost with her arms crossed over her chest. They both smiled and looked at each other when they recognized the brunette as Cate Boyd.

"Girls…give me just a second, ok?" Quinn requested hesitantly.

"Take your time," Brittany assured her, wondering what happened at Quinn's coffee meeting with Cate the night before, hoping to get the details at breakfast this morning.

Quinn walked toward Cate who stood up straight and uncrossed her arms.

"Fancy meeting you here," Quinn smiled.

"I've been waiting out here for awhile," Cate chuckled, "I figured you had to leave at some point."

"We're heading to breakfast…or brunch…," she looked down at her watch, amending, "…or lunch…whatever you New Yorkers call a meal this time of day."

Cate laughed, "Depends on what you order."

"You can join us if you want," Quinn suggested.

"I left Jess last night," Cate suddenly revealed.

"Oh?" Quinn reacted calmly, surprised but not exactly sure what that meant for her.

"You don't seem particularly surprised," Cate replied.

Quinn turned to look at Brittany and Santana who smiled at her encouragingly. She looked back at Cate, wondering aloud, "What made you leave?"

Cate shrugged before answering honestly, "So I could do this."

The older girl slipped both of her hands around Quinn's neck, her fingers tangling in her blonde locks of hair, and pulled her into a determined yet passionate kiss.

Once the kiss broke, Quinn tried to steady herself again, confiding in the taller girl, "You always leave me breathless when you do that."

"Is that a good thing?" Cate smiled.

"A very…_very_…good thing," Quinn responded, pulling Cate back into another kiss. 

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I'm excited to have Quinn back with Cate so I hope you guys are too.

I started a new story as a side project, based sort of on a small joke I made in the AN at the end of the previous chapter. It is catching momentum and getting great response so far, so please check it out if you haven't already. It's called **_Things That Go Bump in the Basement_**, and yes, it is simply Brittany and Santana, alone, locked in a basement. Fun, right? It's a nice break from some of the angst in this story.

As always, please take a moment to leave me a review. All comments help guide me in the next chapter and give me motivation to keep writing. Thanks! Kim


	13. Who Will Save Me

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 13)**

_If I kiss you where it's sore_

_If I kiss you where it's sore_

_Will you feel better, better, better_

_Will you feel anything at all_

_Will you feel better, better, better_

_Will you feel anything at all…_

_Born like sisters to this world_

_In a town where blood ties are only blood_

_If you never say your name out loud to anyone_

_They can never ever call you by it…_

_If I kiss you where it's sore_

_If I kiss you where it's sore_

_Will you feel better, better, better_

_Will you feel anything at all_

_Will you feel better, better, better_

_Will you feel anything at all…_

_You're getting sadder, getting sadder, getting sadder,_

_getting sadder_

_And I don't understand, and I don't understand_

_But if I kiss you where it's sore_

_If I kiss you where it's sore_

_If I kiss you where it's sore_

_Will you feel better, better, better_

_Will you feel anything at all…._

(Better ~ Regina Spektor)

**Tuesday, September 6, 2022**

**2:53 AM**

Brittany's eyelids fluttered open then shut back tight when she saw darkness. She easily drifted back to sleep until she heard it again. There was an odd noise in the apartment, coming from somewhere, and it was preventing deep sleep from reclaiming her.

Her eyelids fluttered open again. It was still dark, only a few minutes having passed, so they automatically shut back tight.

The noise though was persistent in the background, and Brittany could no longer ignore it. The more awake she became, the louder the noise got until Brittany rolled over, seeing green digital numbers on the bedside alarm clock. It was three o'clock in the morning, and Santana was missing.

Brittany ran her hand over her wife's section of their bed, feeling that it was cold to the touch. Ever since Santana returned home from the hospital after the miscarriage, neither of them had slept soundly, so waking up and finding her side empty was not particularly alarming to Brittany.

She yawned and stretched, her body trying to force itself into full consciousness. She sat up slowly and rubbed at the severe fatigue behind her stinging eyes. The blonde had struggled with mental and physical exhaustion since she returned to the chorus of dancers for _Funny Girl_ last week, and everyone around her was starting to whisper in the wings that her typically-sharp dance steps were getting sloppier.

Brittany looked over toward the bathroom, realizing the sound she heard was coming from inside. It sounded like water running, and the blonde saw the interior light shining from underneath its closed door.

After she slid across the bed, she padded over and knocked on the wooden barrier. "Santana?"

There was no answer, so she turned the knob and pushed on it slowly, immediately engulfed in warm steam from the shower and an intense smell of bleach cleaner.

"Tan?" Brittany called louder as she knocked on the privacy glass of the shower stall, opening it with a pop of the seal.

Brittany looked in, her gaze immediately moving downward to see that her wife was on her hands and knees, scrubbing at the tile on the floor of the shower. Santana's choice of cleaning time was not the strangest part of this scene for Brittany. The fact that Santana still had on her pajama shorts and tank was what stood out to her, especially since the hot water was turned on full blast, spraying down, completely soaking her.

"Santana," Brittany repeated, reaching out to touch her wife on her wet shoulder.

The Latina did not turn around or even flinch at the blonde's touch.

Brittany stood there, watching Santana scrub at the same spot over and over and over, her long, wet strands of dark hair hanging over her face.

The longer Brittany watched, the harder Santana scrubbed at the grout with her green scrub pad until Brittany saw red liquid run out and mix with the clear, hot water.

"Santana! Stop!" Brittany yelled at her wife, reaching in again and pulling her by her upper arm, "What are you doing?"

The brunette sat up, pushed back on her heels, looking up at Brittany with a blank expression as water rolled down her hair and body, her wet clothes clinging to her slender form.

Brittany turned the silver handle to shut off the water until it slowed to a drip. "Your fingers are bleeding," the blonde informed her, equal parts of concern and exasperation mixed in her voice, as she turned to pull the hand towel off of the metal ring affixed to the wall.

Kneeling to the floor on the outer portion of the shower stall, Brittany reached in and took Santana's left hand, wrapping the yellow towel around it and squeezing at her fingers to control the bleeding.

Tears filled Brittany's eyes as she sat on the floor, silently monitoring her wife. She searched Santana's face for any connection to the reality around her, but the brunette stared past her into the distance, something less about her dark brown eyes.

Brittany was at a loss as to what to do at this point, of how to relate to Santana, of how to alleviate some of the grief eating at her, overtaking her each night.

For the past week, Santana seemed relatively normal during the day, though moody and slightly irrational at times, but that was not unlike Santana's usual personality. At night though, in the silent stillness of the dark, things were progressively getting worse. Nightmares, insomnia, crying, all pushing them both to the point of near insanity. Yet, every night, Brittany clung to hope that if they could just hang on until daylight again, they'd be alright.

"Come on, honey," Brittany stood back up, pulling Santana with her and helping her step out onto the bathmat.

Brittany closed the lid of the toilet and sat her down, removing the wet tank over the brunette's head. She turned and got a fluffy, dry towel to wrap around Santana's shoulders before she pulled off her wife's wet shorts and underwear, hanging them on the towel rack to dry out.

She removed a brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide from a plastic crate under the exposed sink, dabbing at Santana's index and middle fingers with a cotton ball to clean them, seeing that she had worn down her fingernails and ripped the skin around them with the intensity of her scrubbing. Next, Brittany wrapped a beige bandage around each of Santana's fingers, kneeling down in front of her.

"Hey," she said softly, caressing Santana's jawline then drying off her dark hair which always had a bit of curl to it when it was wet, "Sweetheart, will you look at me? Please?"

Santana closed her eyes then reopened them, looking into Brittany's eyes.

The blonde was relieved to see instant recognition in her wife, telling her, "Hi."

Santana's brow furrowed with confusion, and she looked down to see she was wet and naked. "What happened?"

"Well…we now have the cleanest shower on the block," Brittany joked, trying to lighten the moment, holding up Santana's left hand for her to see, "We could probably even eat in there if we had to."

Santana turned toward the shower stall, and Brittany could tell she remembered none of it.

"I'm sorry I woke you," the Latina responded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"It's okay…don't cry, honey," Brittany pulled her into a tight embrace, kissing the side of her face, "It'll all be okay." 

* * *

><p><strong>9:12 AM<strong>

Brittany sat across the small round table from Santana on Tuesday morning as they each silently ate a bowl of cereal. Brittany was really the only one chewing though while Santana looked down at her bowl, apathetically dunking her Cheerios under the milk with the tip of her spoon.

"Aren't you hungry?" Brittany asked between crunchy bites, her foot pulled casually up in her chair.

Santana shrugged.

"You better eat before it gets cold," Brittany suggested with a goofy smile.

Santana looked up at her wife, confusion on her pretty face, "It's _cold_ cereal, Britt."

"I know…it was a joke," Brittany forced another smile but received only awkward silence in return.

Brittany quietly finished her bowl then stood and walked to the sink, washing it and setting it into the drainboard on the counter. Turning around and leaning back against the counter with her long legs crossed at the ankles, a thought came to her, "Hey…why don't you come see the show tonight after your doctor's appointment?"

Santana grimaced unknowingly, saying, "Umm…I don't know, Britt."

She was searching for anything at this point, just wanting to see Santana do something other than mope around the house. "It would be good for you to be out of the apartment for a while," Brittany said, trying to encourage her, "You'll already be dressed and sort of near there."

"It just seems like a lot to hang around the theatre district, waiting on the show to start," Santana responded indifferently.

"We could call Rachel and go get some dinner with her before the show," Brittany pushed, "Come on…we always have fun when we're all together."

"I'm not really looking to have fun...besides, there's some more cleaning and organizing that I need to do here," Santana looked over her shoulder toward the open part of the apartment, adding, "Look at this place…we can hardly breathe in here, we've got so much stuff…just _piled_ around."

Brittany looked past Santana, surveying the living room and bedroom areas of the apartment, seeing a neat, orderly home and wrinkling her nose, not knowing what it was that Santana saw.

"Okay," the blonde said with extreme disappointment before moving toward the bathroom, "I'm going to get a shower then."

"Britt…wait," Santana reached out and caught her by the arm as she passed, pulling Brittany toward her and wrapping herself around the blonde's torso, "If it's important to you then I'll go." 

* * *

><p><strong>1:33 PM<strong>

"The doctor will be in shortly," the nurse said with little intonation, closing the door behind her and leaving Santana and Brittany alone in the exam room.

Brittany sat in a side chair along the wall, watching the expression on her wife's face as she sat on the end of the exam table, her legs dangling over the edge. She knew Santana felt the same thing she felt at the moment.

The last time they were in this room, they heard the heartbeat of their baby. _Baby_…Brittany sighed. She wasn't sure if that was even the correct word. _It wasn't technically a baby_, she thought. The doctors and nurses could call it a fetus or whatever medically was appropriate, but in her head…and in her heart…it had been their child.

She leaned forward and rubbed the lower portion of Santana's leg, affirming, "I love you."

Santana looked back at Brittany, forcing a small smile, "I love you too."

There was a quick knock on the door before it opened, and Dr. Yates entered with a smile, "Good afternoon."

Brittany and Santana both said a soft hello.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Yates asked, sitting down on her rolling stool and propping her left leg on her right knee to create a little table for Santana's medical chart.

"Fine," Santana reported, her eyes cast downward.

There was a small pause, and Dr. Yates looked up from the chart, assessing Santana's body language. She then turned to look at Brittany, making eye contact before the blonde looked down too.

"Is everything really 'fine' with you guys?" the doctor inquired.

Neither girl answered, avoiding eye contact with each other.

"Santana?" Dr. Yates prompted her patient.

The brunette shrugged, "It's hard, yes…adjusting back to…_not_ being pregnant."

Dr. Yates nodded in recognition, "It takes some time…both physically and emotionally. Go easy on yourself, because your hormone levels are resetting which affects every aspect of your body."

Santana felt some relief that she was not entirely losing her mind.

"So what else is going on at home?" the doctor pushed, "I feel tension between the two of you."

"I don't feel tension. Do you feel tension, Brittany?" Santana asked her wife, seemingly oblivious to any.

Brittany shook her head, a tight-lipped smile crossing her face.

"Is everything really okay, Brittany?" Dr. Yates asked her directly.

Brittany nodded and swallowed hard, "Yes."

"I think we're just ready to start again," Santana offered with determination in her voice.

Brittany looked up at her then over at Dr. Yates, unaware of Santana's desire to try again so quickly, not even sure she personally was ready for everything that went with it.

"Santana…," Dr. Yates paused, looking down at the pages in the Latina's chart, "I must advise you to wait, and I'm certain Dr. Le would agree. In fact, I would be quite surprised if he allowed another insemination for several months under the circumstances."

Santana looked completely deflated, as though the hope of trying again was the only thing moving her forward since leaving the hospital. "But…I…I umm…," she stammered to respond, "I _am_ strong enough now to try again, Dr. Yates."

"Your body is not, Santana," Dr. Yates frowned out of sympathy, "I'm looking at the results of your tests from last week. I think you're setting yourself up for more struggle…and I'm not sure mentally and emotionally you are in a position to handle that."

The doctor looked over at Brittany, and the blonde could see in her eyes that she was trying hard to be gentle with her words while pressing her point.

"Santana…it's okay if we wait a while," Brittany spoke up, "We'll just take a break from it. Clear our minds from everything."

"But I don't want to wait," Santana had tears in her eyes, "I want a baby. I want a baby so _very_ much."

Seeing her wife so upset ripped at Brittany's heart, and she was willing to do anything possible to make Santana's hurt stop. "Then I'll carry for us…," she proposed, assuring her, "We can make an appointment tomorrow with Dr. Le. If that's what you really want then I'm totally ready."

The suggestion was one Brittany had made before, many times. In fact, she actually wanted to carry a child for Santana and her, and even though the timing wasn't perfect with the show and all, Brittany was willing to sacrifice anything and everything to have a family with Santana.

"That's probably your best option right now," Dr. Yates interjected with positive encouragement, "Give your body time to rest, Santana. You've pumped it full of lots medication and hormone supplements. Give yourself time to cleanse out. If Brittany is successful with getting pregnant and then the two of you decide to have another one, you could try again then."

The more Dr. Yates spoke, the more tears poured down Santana's face.

Brittany reached up to take her wife's hand in her own, but Santana pulled away, wiping at the wetness on her cheeks.

Dr. Yates rolled toward the sink counter in the corner of the exam room, picking up a box of tissues and rolling back to offer them to Santana who pulled two out of the box.

"Santana, I know this is not easy for you to accept," Dr. Yates tried to console her patient, patting at the Latina's knee, "You are in a fortunate situation though that there are two females in this marriage."

"But…I…I…want to…," Santana struggled to speak, her voice catching in the back of her throat, "_I_ want to give birth to a child. This is something that is just really important to me."

Brittany sighed heavily, having heard Santana voice this desire many times.

"When you hold your baby for the first time, Santana…," Dr. Yates spoke very tenderly, "…and you look into your baby's eyes…I promise you, it won't matter then. That child will be just as much your child as if you carried it yourself."

Santana broke into a soft sob, and Dr. Yates looked over at Brittany who looked down at her hands in her lap.

"I would like to see you again in six months," the doctor said, closing Santana's chart and standing to pat her on the shoulder, then turned to smile at Brittany, adding, "Let me know if I can be of any further assistance to you two."

Once the door closed behind the doctor, Brittany stood and put her arms around her wife, squeezing her tightly and kissing her on the forehead.

"Don't," Santana pushed her away, sliding off the exam table and stepping back into her sandals. 

* * *

><p><strong>5:00 PM<strong>

"You sure are hanging around here early," Dominic Serra said as he walked down the middle aisle of the orchestra section in the auditorium of the Gershwin Theatre.

Brittany did not hear his exact words, because she had her headphones in, entertaining herself with music from her cell phone, but she turned around in her seat at the sound of a deep voice behind her.

She smiled with recognition, pulling out her earphones by the long cord. "Hi," she responded, "I was early so I thought I'd sort of meditate in here awhile."

Dominic passed up Brittany and took a seat on the row in front of her, turning around to face her. "There is definitely something spiritual about silence in an empty theatre," he smiled as he spoke, his voice hushed with soft respect, "It can be very comforting…healing even. Don't tell my mother, but I come here for prayer and strength more than I light candles at church."

Brittany smiled sweetly and nodded, looking up at the vastness of the theatre's high ceilings, "There's a lot of history in these walls for sure."

"Did you ever see _Wicked_ here?" Dominic asked her.

"A couple of times before the end of its run," Brittany told him, remembering back at how she and Santana saved for months for tickets when they first moved to New York then twice more when it was reported last year that the show was closing, "The audience seemed full each time, I'm still not sure why it closed."

"It was epic, wasn't it? I remember seeing it with the original cast. Nothing compares. Ticket sales are everything though," Dominic explain, having spent most of his forty-eight years on earth in the theatre and ten of those choreographing shows on Broadway, "When those start weaning, producers start sweating. A lot of them would rather close and revamp then open again once the demand swells."

"God, I would give anything to dance that chorus," Brittany shared with Dominic, her feet propped up on the seat in front of her.

"You could dance your choice of shows," the older man said encouragingly, "You are a rare talent, Brittany."

The blonde beamed. It was the first uplifting thing she had heard said to her in weeks, "You really think so?"

Dominic laughed, a smirk crossing his handsome face, "Well…not so much recently…but yeah, you are amazing on stage."

Brittany's face fell. She knew she had not had her mind fully on her performances lately, but to have it pointed out by someone she highly-respected was embarrassing. "I'm sorry, Dom…I know I've been lacking focus."

"Hey, it happens sometimes…but you're so much better than the Brittany I've seen up there this past week," he pointed toward the empty stage.

"I know," Brittany looked down at her lap.

Dominic grimaced and asked, "How is everything at home?"

Brittany was surprised he asked about her personal life. "Fine…everything is fine," she lied.

"Your wife is doing better?" he inquired, reading her body language.

Brittany shrugged. "She was supposed to come tonight to see the show, but…," she answered sadly, "…she decided she needed to go home instead."

Dominic reached up and patted Brittany on her knee as she was leaned back in her chair, "You've got a powerful gift, and you can use it to your advantage. Whenever life is overwhelming, you can take all that negative energy and put it into your dancing."

Brittany looked up at him with a small smile.

"Dance it all out of you each night, Brittany…leave it up on that stage then go home and start fresh," he suggested enthusiastically.

She nodded, grateful for the reminder of what dance truly meant to her. "Thanks, Dom." 

* * *

><p><strong>Friday, September 9, 2022<strong>

**5:31 PM**

Pulling keys from the side pocket of her blazer, Quinn Fabray rearranged the bags in her hands, shifting the brown grocery sack to her left arm, balancing it with her briefcase and purse in order to open the front door to her apartment. She shoved the silver key into the deadbolt, but before she could twist the knob, the door opened.

"Hello," she was greeted with a smile.

"Hello to you," Quinn radiated in returned.

"Here, let me take that," Cate reached for the paper sack then slipped the brown leather strap of the briefcase off Quinn's shoulder.

"I could get used to this sort of greeting," Quinn said when Cate lean in to kiss her.

The taller girl walked the grocery bag to the nearby kitchen and set it on the granite countertop, laughing over her shoulder, "Well, move to Manhattan, and I'll do my best to spoil you."

"Hmm…the pressure between you and Ellen is mounting!" Quinn sighed good-naturedly.

Cate turned back around and pulled Quinn into an embrace as she set her purse on a side table near the couch, telling her, "I'm sorry, forgive me. That is not what this weekend is about."

Quinn hugged Cate then pulled back, sliding her hands down the sides of the brunette's trim torso and onto her waist, "So what is this weekend about?"

Cate looked around at Quinn's spacious New Haven loft and smiled. She kissed the younger blonde on the neck, knowing Quinn was unable to contain herself when she had the crook of her neck kissed, offering, "Reuniting?"

Feeling Cate's lips moving ever-so-tenderly up the side of her neck toward that one place behind her right ear which Quinn knew Cate remembered, made the Yale professor heady, unable to think clearly. "So then…why exactly did you sleep on the couch last night," Quinn asked, tilting her head and arching her shoulder into Cate's kisses, "If we're reuniting, that is."

The taller girl chuckled without removing her lips from Quinn's skin, "To take things slowly."

"Is _this_ taking things slowly, Catherine?" Quinn teased, feeling a tingling heat generating in her core.

"You're right," Cate stopped her assault abruptly, stepping back some to create a safe distance, "It's been six years…we're different people now. Like I told you before I came here, we have to start again."

"Uhuh," Quinn bit at her lower lip, taking a steadying breath as her internal temperature started to return to normal, "We seem to keep forgetting that."

"I'm serious though. We need to get to know one another again," Cate stuck out her right hand, "Hi, I'm Cate Boyd."

Quinn giggled, her green eyes sparkling in the setting sun that was shining through the living room window, "Hi, Cate…nice to meet you. I'm Quinn."

Cate immediately pulled Quinn by the hand into another deep kiss then confessed, "Ok, I feel as though we know each other pretty well now…how about you?"

The blonde laughed and slapped playfully at Cate's shoulder, "You are terrible at following your own advice!"

"True," Cate gave up, pulling Quinn by the hand over to the table, "I am not terrible at romantic dinners though."

"It smells delicious," Quinn sniffed the air and ran her index finger along the cloth napkin that was folded neatly at one of the two plates on the table top, "Did you make pasta?"

"My specialty," the brunette replied, stepping back into the kitchen.

"I remember well."

Cate returned from the kitchen after a couple of minutes with an open bottle of red wine and two wine glasses from Quinn's cabinet, setting them at both places and pouring them half-full.

"It'll be ready in a little bit," she told Quinn, pulling her close again and pushing the blonde's blazer off her shoulders, "Why don't you get comfortable."

Quinn took her jacket off and stepped back again from Cate with a slight giggle, draping it over the back of the armchair.

"What time do you have to be over to the Cabaret?"

"I have a couple of my students handling set up," Quinn answered, "So I just need to check backstage before it starts at eight."

Cate looked at her watch, seeing that it wasn't even six o'clock yet, then she moved behind Quinn, wrapping her long arms around her waist and kissing an exposed patch of skin on her shoulder. "That's plenty of time for eating…and for perhaps," she kissed the drama professor again, moving her long blonde hair over to expose more skin, "some extracurricular activities with Dr. Fabray."

"Cate…stop," Quinn turned to face the older girl. This time there was a serious edge to her tone.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'll keep my hands to myself…promise," Cate winked, holding both of her hands in the air for emphasis.

"It's not that," Quinn paused, taking Cate's hands in hers, "I love your hands. I love your hands on me…all over me in fact."

"What is it then?"

Quinn blew out a long breath of air, trying to collect her thoughts.

"Oh…is this complicated? Am I pushing too hard?" the attractive brunette pulled away, "Should I not have come here?"

"No…no, seriously. Besides, I invited you," Quinn stated adamantly, following Cate as she circled the table and walked toward the front door of the apartment.

Cate took her leather jacket from a hook on the wall, "Perhaps I should go. We can try this another time."

"Cate Boyd…stop!" Quinn insisted, taking the jacket from her hands and hanging it back on the hook then pulling Cate toward the brown leather couch, "Sit…please. We need to talk about something."

Cate sat in the center of the sofa, and Quinn sat on the coffee table, directly across from her. They both leaned in, creating an intimate exchange.

"You have no idea how elated I am to have you back in my life," Quinn stated firmly, her hands on both of Cate's knees.

"Okay," Cate breathed a sigh of relief.

"I love you, Cate," Quinn rubbed the older girl's thigh, "Like I told you, I've never stopped loving you._But_…I need you to know something before we go any further."

"Okay," Cate repeated, sounding more confused now.

Quinn took a deep breath, her voice catching in her throat, causing her to pause hesitantly, "I'm nervous to tell you this, because it will probably change your mind about wanting to be with me."

Cate's eyes narrowed, her brow furrowing as she tried to read Quinn's facial expression. She knew before this moment that she made the right decision to leave Jess. What they had wasn't love, at least with Cate it wasn't, and even though she'd spent the past week sleeping on various couches, trying to locate a new place to live before the fall semester was in full swing, she was happy with her choice.

She was also extremely happy with reconciling with the one woman she had truly loved in her life, but the look on Quinn's face was the only thing that scared her at this moment.

Cate swallowed hard and asked, "What is it, Quinn?"

"Cate…," the Yale professor looked down then back up, locking her gaze with the crystal blue of Cate's eyes, before revealing with extreme trepidation, "I'm pregnant." 

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: If you have thoughts or comments then please take a moment to leave a review so I know what you all are thinking as you're reading this story. Thanks!


	14. All I'm Up Against Out in This World

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 14)**

_Where do we go from here?_

_This isn't where we intended to be_

_We had it all, you believed in me_

_I believed in you…_

_Certainties disappear_

_What do we do for our dream to survive?_

_How do we keep all our passions alive_

_As we used to do?_

_Deep in my heart, I'm concealing_

_Things that I'm longing to say_

_Scared to confess what I'm feeling_

_Frightened you'll slip away…_

_You must love me_

_You must love me…_

_Why are you at my side?_

_How can I be any use to you now?_

_Give me a chance, and I'll let you see how_

_Nothing has changed…_

_Deep in my heart, I'm concealing_

_Things that I'm longing to say_

_Scared to confess what I'm feeling_

_Frightened you'll slip away…_

_You must love me…._

(You Must Love Me ~ Madonna, Evita)

**Friday, September 9, 2022**

**5:47 PM**

Cate Boyd sat in silence, staring into the face of the woman she loved deeply. Her immense excitement over seeing Quinn Fabray this weekend and possibly renewing their relationship was now overshadowed by the information bomb Quinn dropped in Cate's lap.

Stunned and slightly dazed by the revelation, Cate asked, "You're…what?"

Quinn repeated slowly, hardly comfortable with the idea herself, "I'm pregnant."

"Pregnant?" Cate said aloud, the word confusing her since Quinn professed to be a lesbian for the eleven years Cate had known her, causing her to stutter the word, "H-H-How?"

The question was a fair one, Quinn thought. She grimaced and responded, "The traditional way."

"Like from having…sex?" Cate's face contorted, "Sex with a man?"

"Yes. I had sex with a man," Quinn giggled despite her intense fear that Cate would walk out of the apartment and never look back, "It was a mistake, Cate. A _very_ drunken mistake."

The neurons in Cate's brain were firing off a thousand thoughts a second as she continued to stare silently at Quinn, finally pushing herself to ask, "Do you know him?"

"Umm…yes," Quinn admitted, "Quite well…unfortunately."

There was another awkward silence while Cate pondered if it was rude for her to ask who the guy was and while Quinn wondered why Cate wasn't asking who the guy was.

Ultimately, Quinn broke the silence with her confession, "It was Puck."

"Puck? Beth's father Puck?" Cate felt lightheaded and leaned against the back of the couch, pulling her hands up to her head and rubbing at the throb behind her temples, "Oh…wow…okay."

"Nobody is more shocked than I am, Cate," Quinn confessed, "It took me three weeks just to talk myself into making a doctor's appointment to confirm the pregnancy test."

Cate sat a minute longer to collect her thoughts. She couldn't even fathom the moment that Quinn realized she could be pregnant, having to buy an over-the-counter test to take home. Even now, she could see a mixture of fear and anxiety in Quinn's green eyes.

"What do you plan on doing?" Cate asked hesitantly.

"I did not plan this," Quinn ran her hand nervously through her golden locks, "Obviously."

"Okay," Cate's eyes narrowed, trying to infer the meaning in Quinn's words, "Sooo…that means?"

"I plan on having this baby."

That statement did not surprise Cate. Quinn had not turned away from the challenge of carrying Beth to term back in high school, but she eventually allowed her to be adopted soon after birth. Cate was not sure what a now older and more independent Quinn Fabray would choose to do.

"Are you keeping it?" the brunette asked, not realizing she was holding her breath as she waited for the answer.

The younger girl nodded vehemently without batting an eyelid, confirming, "Yes."

"Are you going to involve Puck?" Cate asked as she slowly released the air in her lungs.

"I don't want a relationship with Puck…I want a relationship with _you_," Quinn insisted, adding with a determined tone, "but…I'm going to raise this baby even if I have to do it all by myself."

Cate took another deep breath then, again, slowly let it out. This was a huge decision for Quinn, and Cate knew she had only one response. She leaned forward and put her arms around Quinn, telling her, "You won't have to it all by yourself."

Quinn swallowed hard as she absorbed Cate's affirmation, pulling back to look at the older girl, "Does that mean you're willing to take us both?"

Cate laughed at the innocence in Quinn's voice, seeing tears in the young blonde's eyes, "I want so much to be with you, Quinn…helping you with your baby is just an unexpected bonus." 

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday, September 11, 2022<strong>

**1:37 PM**

Brittany Pierce walked down a back hallway inside the Gershwin Theatre toward the dressing room for the chorus girls. Lost in thought as she looked down at her cell phone to check the time, she rounded the corner and bumped into her best friend, Austin Royle.

"Oh, Britt…I'm sorry," Austin reacted first, unconsciously holding onto her forearm.

The blonde was nearly as tall as her friend, so when she looked up, the first thing she saw was his mouth. She instantly noticed his typical smile that was genuine and always showed his straight, white teeth was missing, replaced by a sort of awkward grimace.

"It's ok, Austin," Brittany assured him, "I should pay more attention."

The awkwardness of Austin's smile spread quickly to fill the space around the best friends with the air becoming as thick as a summer night in New York City. Brittany hated that the two of them were unable to reestablish their effortless sync after the whole Dave Karofsky fiasco.

Internally, Brittany understood it was never Austin's fault. It had been a random fluke that he bumped into Dave at a nightclub and an even more random misfortune that he and Dave started dating.

She also knew Austin realized none of it was his fault. Yet, for some reason, she and Austin stepped around each other the last several weeks as if hot coals encircled them both and their main objective was to pass as quickly as possible in order to survive.

"How are you doing?" Austin asked her, concern in his otherwise mellow tone.

"Good," Brittany gave a slight nod of her head and forced a smile.

The handsome brunette tilted his head and smiled back at her. This time his smile was more genuine, and his hazel-colored eyes had regained some familiarity to them. "How are you _really_ doing?" he asked again.

"Better," Brittany insisted then expanded with less poise than she usually accomplished, "I mean, yeah…things have been hard lately…but things are…um, better."

"I'm glad," he told her, stressing, "I am really sorry about the baby, Britt."

She gave him the same thin-lipped smile she gave everyone who told her the exact same thing. She then gave him her typical verbal reply, "I know. Thank you."

She had heard "I'm sorry" and responded "I know" so many times that it was an innate reaction at this point, devoid of the emotion it once carried.

Before Austin could say anything more to Brittany, he was forced to step aside in the hall, pulling Brittany by the wrist with him toward the wall, in order to allow a small group of cast members enough room to walk. As they passed, fellow dancers Gianna Santoro and Adrian Dimas smiled sweetly, acknowledging the two of them.

Walking behind them was the chorus' oldest dancer, Naomi Rhoads. In pre-opening rehearsals, she had been knocked to the back of the chorus in order to showcase Brittany's talent. Still bitter, she used the opportunity for a little payback, articulating with the perfect blend of sarcasm and disdain, "If you have downtime, Pierce, you might consider additional practice before curtain."

One of Naomi's younger sidekicks snickered loudly for emphasis, mumbling, "Mmmhmm…she sure should."

Brittany diverted her gaze downward and said nothing, a bright pink appearing on the fair skin of her cheeks. Austin bit his bottom lip to keep from verbally attacking in response, avoiding any further embarrassment for his best friend.

Once they were alone in the hall again, Austin raised Brittany's chin with his index finger, advising her with a wink, "Keep your chin up. You can still dance circles around any of them."

She gave him a small smile and said, "Thanks."

"I'm sorry, Britt. I should have been more present for you," he admitted softly, "I know you've struggled lately."

"I've just lost focus…I'm working through everything though," she asserted, "Nobody needs to worry."

Austin put his arms around her and kissed her on top of the head, telling her, "Okay." 

* * *

><p><strong>9:27PM<strong>

Brittany opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the bedroom area, escaping the collected steam from her shower. She had a bath towel wrapped around her and was drying her long, wet strands with another one. The hot water had done wonders for her aching muscles at the end of a grueling week of performances.

She stood for a moment in front of the mirror that was attached to the wall above the chest of drawers, running a brush through her hair. She could see Santana's reflection in the mirror as she sat behind her, curled up in the middle of the couch with her laptop on her thighs. Brittany watched as Santana leaned over and picked up a wine glass from the coffee table then took a long drink before setting it back down.

Brittany removed her towel and reached up to hang it over the top corner of the bathroom door to air dry, hanging her other one over the doorknob, then stepped into some clean underwear.

As she was pulling a lightweight sleep shirt over her head, she walked over to the couch and slipped in behind Santana on the couch, pulling her long legs up under her and wrapping her arms around her wife's waist.

"What are you so busy with over here?" Brittany asked jovially, her chin resting on Santana's shoulder.

"Job hunting," Santana answered her with no inflection in her voice.

"Job hunting? Okaaay." The blonde's eyes narrowed suspiciously while she scanned the webpage on the computer screen. Having heard no previous comments from Santana about searching for a job, she probed further, "…at Hedley and Bryant? What's that?"

"It's an advertising firm. Grayson said his friend mentioned they're hiring some office temps," Santana replied matter-of-factly.

Brittany grimaced, "You sure you want to work in an office? Doing what? Answering phones?"

"If it pays money, I do," Santana retorted, clicking out of the website and sighing heavily.

Brittany could feel Santana's body become tense, realizing her questions may have seemed critical. "Honey, I didn't mean anything by it…but I don't want you to feel like you have to take a job just anywhere," she explained further, "We're making it alright for now."

"You're the one who has been saying I need to get out of the apartment," Santana reminded her wife.

"Yes, but…I thought maybe you'd call your agent," Brittany offered, "To see what shows might be auditioning right now?"

"I don't know if I'm ready for that sort of rejection," Santana said softly, closing her laptop and leaning forward to set it on the coffee table, picking up her wine glass and taking another drink from it.

Brittany pulled Santana's hand toward her mouth and tipped the wine glass for a sip, observing, "I thought you were drinking white tonight?"

"I finished that bottle," she responded, "We only had red left."

Brittany disregarded the switch, preferring red wine anyway. She took another sip then leaned forward to set the glass back on the coffee table, assuring Santana, "You are so talented though, sweetheart…you need to be on stage. I know you miss it."

Santana shrugged. "Maybe all I'm meant to do is sit at a desk and answer phones for a while. It's low-key, and it's steady income."

Brittany did not know what to say in response. Lately, she never knew what to say to Santana or how to say anything to Santana, not wanting to push the Latina too far one way or the other, hoping to simply make it through each day without upsetting her or losing her further.

She squeezed her arms tighter around Santana's mid-section, molding herself further into the brunette's body. Brittany yearned for this type of physical connection with her wife that, until the miscarriage, had come so naturally for the couple. She leaned closer and kissed Santana's neck, pleasantly surprised when she didn't pull away from her, so Brittany kissed her again then again along her neck until she was right next to Santana's earlobe.

"I've missed holding you," the blonde said sweetly.

Santana seemed to relax a bit in Brittany's arms or perhaps Brittany was just searching for any tiny progress.

Brittany kissed the side of Santana's face along her jawline and was pleased when Santana turned her head slightly toward her. "I've missed kissing you," Brittany told her wife, kissing her on the side of her mouth and adding, "I love you, honey."

"I love you too," Santana returned the sentiment.

Hot tears crept into Brittany's blue eyes, but she squinted hard and took a settling breath to keep them contained. This was the first time in two weeks that Santana had said those words to her, and even though Santana said them with reserved affection this time, Brittany was no less thrilled and relieved to hear them.

Brittany ran her hand up under Santana's pajama shirt, caressing her smooth back as she turned the brunette to where she could kiss her on her lips.

When Santana did not stop her, she reclined against the padded arm of the couch, pulling the Latina with her. "I've missed your touch too," Brittany said before kissing Santana again.

There were two seconds in time when Brittany saw Santana's dark eyes totally check out and look off to the side, but as soon as it happened, she was back again, looking down at Brittany with a determined expression. She didn't say anything, but she settled herself to where she was on top of the blonde, parting Brittany's legs with her slender body.

Santana dragged her hand the length of Brittany's thigh, pushing up under the hem of her sleep shirt, immediately going down inside her cotton panties.

"Ohh," Brittany reacted verbally and physically to the unexpected intimacy, her body involuntarily curving away from Santana's direct contact. When she saw the look her reaction brought to her wife's face, she quickly apologized, "Sorry, hon."

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Santana clarified defensively, her hand still pressed against Brittany's opening.

Brittany grimaced at the starkness of Santana's statement, "Well…yes, but…you could at least kiss me first."

"Sorry," Santana replied, leaning down to put a tight-lipped kiss on Brittany's mouth. As soon as she did, she pushed her middle finger inside Brittany's folds, causing another unintended jerk from Brittany's body.

"Santana…," Brittany said, pushing on her wife's shoulders as the Latina lowered herself again for another forced kiss, "…stop."

Santana continued to finger Brittany, causing only discomfort for the blonde.

"What are you doing?" Brittany asked her, frustration now in her tone.

"Touching you…like you asked," Santana answered, unaware of any issue arising.

Brittany reached down and pulled on Santana's wrist, "Just stop…please."

"Why?" Santana asked, stopping the motion of her finger, "I thought I was doing what you wanted."

"Not like that, I don't," Brittany retorted as she quickly slid out from under the brunette, ending up on the living room floor with a thud, hearing the fabric of her underwear tear slightly as Santana's hand was ripped away by her fall.

"What's the problem?" the Latina inquired with irritation, sitting up on her knees.

"The problem? The problem is that hurt…," Brittany said bluntly, standing up.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to hurt you," Santana told Brittany with a sigh, feeling bad but not able to process the proper emotion to comfort her wife.

Brittany moved across the apartment to the wooden chest and opened the bottom drawer, taking out a pair of cotton shorts. Santana got up from the couch and followed Brittany's path, watching her from behind as she put on the shorts and took off her nightshirt to pull on a tighter fitting t-shirt.

"I said I'm sorry, ok?" she told the blonde, exasperated that her words were not convincing enough to convey her remorse.

"Since when did having sex with your wife become such a chore for you?" Brittany asked through gritted teeth as she dropped to the floor to put on socks and her running shoes.

Santana rolled her eyes though, fortunately, Brittany did not see it. "Where are you going?"

Brittany tied her second shoe and stood up, replying dismissively as she brushed past Santana, "For a run."

"It's nearly ten o'clock," Santana informed her after looking over at the digital clock on the nightstand, "…and you just showered."

Brittany grabbed her phone off of the kitchen table then her keys off the hook near the door, replying as she walked out, "Like you care anyway?" 

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I know we're deep in this for Santana and Brittany. Please give me your patience. This story is a journey. I also hope you guys who are Quate supporters are pleased. :)

I'm curious from a few of the reviews if some of you guys have never read _Her Smile Heals Me_ first before following this sequel? I find that intriguing since so much info in this story is based on specific events, relationships, and emotions from HSHM. Please go check it out if you haven't already. It would mean a lot to me personally!

Please take a moment to leave me your thoughts or questions in a review. I love hearing from each of you. Thanks, Kim


	15. Maybe You'll Find Something

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 15)**

_I think I've already lost you_

_I think you're already gone_

_I think I'm finally scared now_

_And you think I'm weak, I think you're wrong…_

_I think you're already leaving_

_Feels like your hand is on the door_

_I thought this place was an empire_

_And now I'm relaxed, and I can't be sure…_

_But I think you're so mean, I think we should try_

_I think I could need this in my life_

_And I think I'm scared, I think too much_

_I know it's wrong, it's a problem, I'm dealing…_

_If you're gone, maybe it's time to come home_

_There's an awful lot of breathing room, but I can hardly move_

_And if you're gone, baby, you need to come home_

'_Cause there's a little bit of something me_

_in everything in you…._

(If You're Gone ~ Matchbox 20)

**Sunday, October 9, 2022**

**9:03 PM**

Brittany did not realize she had dozed off on the living room couch until she was pulled from sleep by a knock on the front door of her apartment. She sat up and took a moment to stretch the stiffness out of her back and neck muscles before standing and walking over to the door.

As she moved, she looked across to the digital numbers on the microwave, seeing it was shortly after nine o'clock at night. Before she reached it, there was another insistent knock on the door, so she yelled ahead of her arrival, "Just a second…I'm coming!"

"Hi," beamed Rachel Berry once Brittany opened the door.

"Hi," the blonde returned the greeting with significantly less enthusiasm.

Brittany had just seen Rachel backstage at the Gershwin Theatre two hours earlier, following their Sunday matinee performance, but it wasn't unusual for the tiny starlet to be found at Brittany's apartment building over the last few months.

Things were definitely getting more serious between Rachel and Grayson Knox who were often together in Grayson's apartment on the floor below.

"Can I come in?" Rachel asked since Brittany stood there motionless.

"Oh, yeah…sorry," Brittany shook her head at her current social ineptness as she stepped aside hesitantly, saying, "Come on in."

Anytime Brittany and Rachel crossed paths, it was always in the building's stairwell. In fact, the blonde could not remember the last time, since the miscarriage, that she and Santana had any visitor inside their apartment.

Even when Daniel and Trey Berry came to town at the end of September to see their daughters, more specifically to check up on Santana at the request of Rachel, the only thing Santana would agree to was meeting them for a brief dinner where she simply smiled and nodded a lot and insisted she was "fine".

Brittany played along, as usual, during that visit, just as she did at work and on the phone with her own parents, maintaining that everything was normal, hoping if she hung on long enough that eventually everything would fall back into place. The only problem Brittany silently acknowledged was her approach was definitely not working, because nothing about her marriage to Santana was normal these days.

"Where's Santana?" Rachel inquired, spinning around to face the tall dancer.

Brittany shrugged and grimaced, her natural reaction lately when Santana's name was mentioned, retorting, "I don't know…she was gone when I got home."

"Oh," Rachel frowned, knowing her sister well enough to sense it was odd for her to be out late without telling her wife.

"Did you need something?"

"I wanted to make sure you guys are coming to Quinn's Welcome to New York dinner tomorrow night," Rachel sounded as excited to have an excuse to host a dinner party as much as she was about Quinn accepting the job offer at the Soho Theatre, reminding, "This is mine and Grayson's first party together."

"Yes, I told Quinn I would be there," Brittany replied in an even tone, "but I can't speak for Santana."

Rachel took a deep breath, saying sadly, "But…it won't be the same without you _both_ there."

"If she feels up to it then I'm sure she'll come down for dinner," Brittany ventured a guess, internally recognizing that any attempt at predicting Santana's behavior or attitude lately was futile.

The short brunette spun around the other direction again, seeing the television and asking with some puzzlement, "What are you watching?"

Brittany had forgotten about the DVD that was playing in the background. She reached quickly for the remote to switch it off, replying tensely, "Nothing."

Before the screen went dark, Rachel easily recognized the moving images as Brittany and Santana on their wedding day. She remembered how wonderful the ceremony was on the beach as the sun was setting, how truly gorgeous and in love her sister was that day, and how magical the reception was under a party tent with all the colorful lights.

It seemed unfair now that she stood in Santana and Brittany's apartment five years later while both their lives privately crumbled around them, but Rachel was determined to do her part to prevent their demise. She looked back at Brittany with a giant smile and an upbeat attitude, "That is _still_ the best reception I've ever been to!"

Brittany bit at her lower lip, embarrassed that Rachel saw she was watching her wedding video alone. She could only hope she did not also see the crumpled, white tissues on the couch and floor and was inwardly thankful for the apartment's low lighting.

"Brittany?" Rachel prodded her sister-in-law.

The blonde looked again at Rachel, "Yeah, it was an amazing night for sure. Trey did an excellent job with the tent and the lights."

"I remember him saying that Santana insisted the lights be multi-colored instead of just white," Rachel reminisced with delight.

Brittany nodded, feeling moisture form in the corners of her eyes. She did not know that part specifically, since the girls left the details of the reception to Santana's father. Trey Berry was a very skilled florist and wedding planner, and since he and Daniel insisted on paying for everything, the brides told him to surprise them.

"Like fireflies out in the woods, right?" Brittany presumed, knowing a tent with colored lights held special meaning for her and Santana.

Rachel laughed, "That's exactly what she told him."

Unable to hold back her tears, Brittany sat on the couch and lowered her head to her lap, sobbing.

"Oh, Britt…," Rachel sat next to her, caressing the back of the larger girl's head, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to upset you…I thought I was helping."

Brittany continued to cry without lifting her head.

"Brittany…," Rachel said softly, draping her arm over the curve of Brittany's back.

The blonde sat up once her tears slowed, sniffing and wiping at the wetness around her nostrils.

Rachel picked up one of the crumpled tissues from the couch cushion, handing it to Brittany.

"Thanks," Brittany responded, using it to blow her nose.

"What's really going on between you two?" Rachel tucked a long strand of golden hair behind the other girl's ear.

Brittany shook her head, "We're fine…everything's fine."

"No, you're not," Rachel put her hand on Brittany's forearm, squeezing it for support, "Britt…I love you and Santana so much. You're my entire family, and I want to see you both happy again."

"I…I…," Brittany stumbled over her words, fresh tears forming. She could not even remember what _happy_ felt like, but she knew with certainty that, without Santana, she would never have that feeling again.

"Is this about the miscarriage?" Rachel wondered aloud.

Brittany shrugged and shook her head, wiping more at her eyes and nose.

Rachel reached to turn Brittany's head by her chin, "Talk to me…_please_."

Brittany took a deep breath, revealing, "I have no idea how to make things better, Rach. I've tried everything, but ever since Santana lost the baby…I don't know, it's like I'm the enemy."

"The enemy?" Rachel repeated, baffled at the description. The small brunette had grown over the years to know Santana nearly as well as Brittany knew her. They trusted each other with every big decision, every secret, and the Santana Lopez who Rachel loved as her own blood sibling truly adored and worshipped Brittany Pierce from the time they were all schoolmates. "Santana loves you, Brittany," Rachel reassured her.

"I know she still loves me…I mean, I hope she does, but…," Brittany choked back more tears, emotions she had pushed away for six weeks, "…she won't talk to me, she won't get anywhere near me anymore. She ignores me, and when she does speak to me, she's just so…_hateful_."

"I don't mean to pry, but have you two ever discussed adoption?" Rachel asked cautiously.

"She won't adopt," Brittany responded vehemently, her voice cracking with emotion as she spoke, "I've suggested it…several times. I've offered to carry our baby myself. I'd go to Dr. Le tomorrow, but she gets angry and says no."

Rachel sighed, "I'm really sorry. I wish there was something…_anything_…that I could do for you guys."

"It's like a personal defeat to her, that her body won't work properly," Brittany surmised.

"Some things are out of our control," the brunette tried to console, rubbing Brittany's back tenderly.

"I don't know what will bring her peace," Brittany's heart ached so much for her wife, fresh tears pouring down her face.

"Britt…," Rachel put both arms around her old friend, pulling her into a tight embrace, allowing her to cry out her bottled hurt.

Neither girl heard the opening of the front door over the sound of Brittany's crying.

"What's going on?" Santana asked with a hard edge to her naturally-raspy voice.

Rachel looked up to see an angry expression on her sister's face. Before she could say anything, Brittany stood quickly and walked toward the bathroom, wiping at her wet face, saying over her shoulder, "I'm going to take a shower."

Left alone in an awkward silence, Rachel subtly picked up four crumpled tissues around her.

"What are you doing here?" Santana asked again, telling her, "I hope you're not here to check up on me, Rachel."

The smaller brunette stood, walking over to a nearby trash bin and dropping in the tissues. She nervously pulled down the long sleeves on her shirt and tucked a long strand of brown hair behind her ear before speaking, stepping closer toward her sister and attempting a light-hearted air, "Of course not. I was here to make sure you two didn't bail on our dinner date tomorrow night."

"Is that tomorrow night?" Santana shifted, putting her house keys on the coffee table in front of her and crossing her arms.

"Yes ma'am!" Rachel forced a huge smile, "You can't tell me you forgot, because now I know you know…so you better be there."

"Maybe," Santana did not want to commit.

Rachel moved closer and reached up to cup Santana's left elbow, but Santana took a step back.

"Have you been drinking?" Rachel asked with concern, smelling cigarette smoke and hard liquor on the taller girl.

Even in the low light, Rachel could see that Santana's face had no expression.

"I'm worried about you, Santana," Rachel confessed.

"Don't be," the Latina said flatly, "I'm fine."

Rachel stepped closer and reached to hug her. Santana stepped backwards again but ran into the couch, nearly toppling over.

"You're so angry lately," Rachel pushed, "You really need to talk to somebody about what's going inside you. I'm scared what might happen if you don't."

"You should leave," Santana said firmly, pushing her sister toward the front door.

Rachel allowed herself to be escorted out of the apartment, but she turned around in the doorway to say as compassionately as she could, "I love you, Santana. I'm here for you if you decide to talk about it. I really hope to see you tomorrow."

Santana closed the door, locking it immediately, then walked back over to the couch, plopping down with an audible huff and growling slightly. Her only thought was how dare her sister pass judgment on her? _Seriously?_ She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. _So I had a few drinks at the pub? Who cares? I'm an adult. I'm certainly not pregnant anymore. I can drink whenever and whatever I want._

As she internally justified her actions to herself, she looked down, seeing two more crumpled tissues wedged between the couch cushions. She knew Brittany was talking about her to Rachel; she could tell with how upset Brittany seemed. Santana's anger dissipated some as she thought about her wife.

She hated seeing Brittany cry. Anytime Brittany was upset, particularly with her, Santana felt like her heart was being ripped out, but she felt powerless lately to do anything about it, immobilized by internal emotions that were too difficult for her to process.

The water was running in the nearby bathroom so Santana kicked off her shoes and leaned forward to pick up the remote, turning on the television. Familiar images instantly appeared on the screen. Santana watched for a few minutes, engrossed in the memory playing out in front of her…Brittany and her dancing together at their wedding reception.

_She looked more beautiful than ever that day_, Santana thought to herself, seeing the wide smiles on both of their faces as they danced so carefree and in love. The Latina watched as they kissed each other in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by family and friends. She could remember how much Brittany's kiss always brought her comfort. _Why can I not surrender to that now?_ She sighed heavily. _I love her so much_, Santana reminded herself, tears in her eyes as she watched them dance in each other's arms.

Santana pushed the button on the remote to switch off the screen, apprehensively twisting her wedding band on left ring finger. The running water was all she could hear in the apartment's stillness. She stood and moved toward the bathroom. Hesitating a moment, she slipped off her ring and set it in her velvet-padded jewelry box that sat on top of the chest of drawers.

The brunette took a second to look at herself in the mirror that hung on the wall before turning the knob and pushing open the door. She disrobed quickly, throwing her smoke-covered jeans and shirt to the far corner then adding her underwear and bra on top of them, opening the door to the shower stall.

Brittany was leaned against the tiled wall, letting the hot water rain down over her, sobbing. The sound of the door's seal popping open caused her to turn toward it, seeing Santana as she stepped in with her.

"What are you doing?" the blonde asked, her sadness mixed with surprise.

"Shhh…," Santana told her, running her hand down the back of Brittany's wet head, pulling her by the neck into a tender kiss.

Brittany pulled back, unsure of this side of her wife, but Santana pulled her again into a kiss, following with another kiss then another one as she moved from Brittany's mouth up her jawline to behind her ear.

"I don't understand," Brittany said; her voice filled with defeat, fresh tears mixing with the water that covered them both.

"I know," Santana said softly, moving her arms around her wife's waist and running her fingertips along her slick skin, admitting, "Me neither."

The two of them said nothing further, stroking each other's torsos, their arousal slowly building as they reconnected physically. They kissed and touched and kissed some more as the water cleansed the distance from them.

After several minutes, Santana reached down between her wife's legs and gently slipped her finger inside, finding a thicker wetness there. She massaged Brittany up and down and back up again, always returning to the hard knot that elicited a deep moan from the blonde each time she focused on it.

With the water droplets pelting her nipples and the intensity growing inside her, Brittany felt her legs weaken so she leaned back against the wall, its coolness in stark contrast to the warmth of the water and the heat deep in her core. Brittany felt Santana adjust her leg up under Brittany's leg in order to brace her better. Santana also moved her right arm around the taller girl's hips, giving her more support.

Brittany felt secure enough to move her own arm to search out Santana's core. When she pushed inside her wife, she felt the brunette lean even further into her and breathe heavily against her right ear, whispering, "Ohhh, Britt."

Knowing each other as intimately as any two people could know the other one, they both moved their fingers up and inside, each hearing an instant gasp. They gave each other a second to take in the fullness before moving in and out with long, meticulous strokes.

The more Santana moved inside Brittany, the heavier her weight against the Latina's leg became, and the more Brittany moved inside Santana, the more she lean against the blonde, pushing them both against the solid support of the shower wall.

As the muscles in Brittany's core grew tighter, it was harder for Santana to push her fingers deeply, especially with the only angle she had available. After a passionate kiss against Brittany's mouth, she trailed down the blonde's long body, making a brief stop past each of Brittany's nipples, sucking hard, ending up on her knees with her face between her wife's legs.

Santana propped Brittany's right leg over her shoulder and continued her stimulation orally, focusing again at the hard nub that was enlarged and throbbing. She licked and sucked, staying out of the stream of water enough to maintain steady air flow, feeling more and more pressure on her shoulders as Brittany braced herself with her hands.

"Ohhh…ohhhh," Brittany verbalized, feeling Santana's tongue push inside her core before coming back out and flicking at her clit, "Oh goddd…Saaaantannnna."

Santana repeated that pattern several times, pushing her tongue as deeply inside her wife as she could but consistently returning to suck at her most tender spot. Eventually, her sucking pushed Brittany over the edge, sending an explosion of electricity and emotion through Brittany's entire body, triggering a powerful sob.

As her body trembled with release, Brittany slid down the wall, collapsing into Santana's arms, laying her head on Santana's shoulder and crying.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart…I'm so sorry," Santana kissed her wife on the side of her face, holding her naked body close as the now lukewarm water cascaded over them, reaffirming, "I love you, Brittany."

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, October 10, 2022<strong>

**7:22 PM**

Grayson Knox removed two clear wine glasses from his kitchen cabinet and filled them nearly-full with pungent, red liquid before taking them to his living room and handing one each to Brittany and to Santana.

"I'm so glad you _both_ are here," Rachel's face lit up as she patted Santana's knee.

Santana turned her head and smiled lovingly at Brittany who was seated comfortably next to her on Grayson's leather sofa. She took a sip of her wine then reached for her wife's hand, squeezing it affectionately.

"So Quinn…," Rachel turned her attention to the blonde across the room, "…what did Yale say when you told them you took the Soho job?"

"Well…," Quinn Fabray grimaced and looked at Cate who sat on the loveseat beside her, "They were disappointed…but supportive."

"I'm sure it helped that you agreed to teach your Tuesday/Thursday classes through the end of the semester," Brittany surmised.

"That definitely eased the burden on the department," Quinn agreed. She knew they could easily replace her as a professor once the university had time to interview and hire an appropriate candidate, but she felt extremely guilty about leaving the students at the Cabaret. She confessed, "I'll really miss the students though."

"You've left them with the proper tools," Cate assured the younger girl, "Now you can watch them succeed."

Quinn leaned into Cate's body, her hand on the brunette's thigh, "Thank you, honey."

"We should toast!" Rachel stood up and refilled her wine glass from a bottle that was on the counter of Grayson's side bar. She turned and topped off Santana's then Brittany's glass, asking, "Quinn, you've hardly touched yours?"

Quinn was hoping nobody noticed she wasn't drinking from the glass in her hand, thankful when Cate took a couple of tiny sips from it to cover for her. "I'm just tired from the move. If I drink much, I'll fall asleep before we eat dinner."

That statement sounded believable, so Rachel set the emptied bottle back on the bar.

"Cate…are you sure I can't get you something?" Grayson asked from a club chair, "I have beer in the fridge if you prefer."

"No, thanks," the older girl assured him with a polite smile. Cate Boyd was not one to hide the fact she was once an addict who now stayed away from most vices. After twelve years, she still only allowed herself an occasional sip, finding that alcohol gave her no real pleasure even in small quantities.

"Ok, so for my first toast at our first official dinner party…," Rachel cleared her throat and raised her glass when the doorbell rang.

"Saved by the bell," Santana quipped with a roll of her eyes, taking a long drink.

The rest of them chuckled, equally glad for the interruption, and ensured the petite diva she would have her moment at some point in the evening.

Grayson stood and kissed his girlfriend on the cheek then walked over to answer the door.

"We're here!" two familiar voices bellowed from the entry.

"Yay!" the volume of Rachel's voice rising to the same screeching level of excitement, "You remembered the code!"

"Uhh, _I _did, yes," Blaine Anderson specified, pointing toward the taller guy on his left, "_He_ didn't even get out of the house with the bottle of wine we were bringing."

"Oh, Blaine, honey…details, details," Kurt Hummel dismissed with a tight-lipped smirk, brushing past Grayson to hug Rachel, searching for an appropriate comment, "This place is so…charming."

"Hi, I'm Blaine," the shorter man stuck out his hand to greet Grayson, "Excuse my husband's manners."

"It's ok," Grayson smiled, suddenly feeling very tall as he looked down at the dapperly-attired brunette, shaking Blaine's hand, "Grayson. I'm glad you two could come."

Kurt turned around, giving a slight wave of his hand, "I'm Kurt. I've heard a lot about you."

Grayson nodded, "And I've heard a lot about you. It's nice to finally meet you two."

"Welcome to Manhattan!" Kurt exclaimed as he made his way around the couch to kiss Quinn on the cheek then, running a hand across Cate's shoulders, added, "Welcome back into the fold."

Cate shook her head and smiled, knowing Kurt from years of dating Quinn, and decided to take the gibe as a compliment.

Kurt circled the coffee table to kiss Brittany before plopping down on the other side of Santana, crossing his legs at the knees. "So you're out of seclusion for the night?"

"Kurt!" Blaine scolded as he stood near Grayson with his hands in the side pockets of his charcoal-colored pants.

Santana sighed heavily, "Yes, good to see you too, Richard Simmons."

"The pleasure is mine," Kurt confirmed with a supportive hand on the Latina's knee. The last time he and Blaine had seen Santana was shortly after her miscarriage when they visited the hospital, so he was relieved to see her looking lovely in a red and black cocktail dress.

"So the food is ready if everybody is hungry," Grayson announced, motioning toward the pre-set dining table.

The group took their places around the long table, finding sort of a tight squeeze to get all eight of them around the space meant for six chairs. They passed around the serving dishes of vegetables and one of chicken, each filling their plates before handing the oversized dishes back to Grayson who set them on the kitchen counter.

"If anybody wants more of something then just speak up," the handsome blond told his guests, giving a wink toward Rachel who was at the opposite end of the table between Santana and Kurt.

"So Quinn, have you guys found an apartment yet?" Blaine asked, looking to his right.

"Our realtor showed us a few places yesterday," Quinn answered between bites, "but most of those were…."

"Disgusting," Cate volunteered.

Quinn laughed, "I was going to say overpriced…but yeah, they all needed some elbow grease to make them livable."

"Unfortunately, that's New York," Grayson offered.

"You guys should look at my building, Quinn," Rachel threw out the idea to the girl across the table, "I know of one two floors above me which just opened up. I knew the guy who lived there. He put in new countertops and appliances before he got transferred out of state."

"Your building is uptown though, and with Cate at Cardozo and me working in Soho…I think we want to stay down in this area," Quinn explained.

"I understand. Too bad though, cause it's a great one-bedroom for a steal," Rachel frowned then turned to her sister to present, "Perhaps you and Brittany should come look at it. It's move-in ready, and my building has a doorman _and_ an elevator."

"That would be a nice upgrade, Rach, but you know we can't afford to live in your building," Brittany responded, looking at Santana who sat between her and Rachel.

The Latina gave an awkward smile, setting down her fork to take another long sip of wine. Even though the group was comprised of her family and closest friends, Santana was struggling with the prolonged interactions.

Rachel wiped at her mouth with her cloth napkin, expanding, "Well, it would be a better situation for you two…certainly closer to the theatre, Britt…and it would be awesome to live so near you."

"Rachel…they seem comfortable with their budget," Grayson said delicately.

"All I'm saying is that budgets can be stretched, Gray," the tiny brunette continued, not taking the gentle hint her boyfriend extended, "Santana, you know that Dads have told you for years that they would help you with whatever you needed in order to get out of this walk-up."

"I'm not a charity, Rachel," Santana stated definitively, banging her hand on the table, causing all the plates and silverware to clank loudly, "I was bought for seventeen years, but I will not be bought now."

A tense silence hung over the table. Kurt looked at Blaine while Quinn looked across at Brittany who simply looked down at her plate.

Grayson cleared his throat and stood quickly, "More wine, anyone?"

"Yes, please," Kurt responded with a nervous laugh.

"Got any more of these potatoes, Grayson?" Cate asked, stabbing at two and stuffing them in her mouth to make room on her plate.

Brittany reached under the table to caress Santana's thigh while saying, "We appreciate the fact that you're looking out for us, Rachel…but I think we're satisfied where we are…for now."

Once he passed the dish of roasted potatoes and set it back in the kitchen, Grayson returned to his seat and passed a full bottle of wine. Santana made sure to refill her glass as the bottle made its way around, immediately taking a long, calming drink.

"I think this building is better than many in lower Manhattan," Blaine tried to ease the tension.

"It's certainly better than our first two apartments," Kurt agreed with a gesture of his fork, "That one near the river still gives me nightmares."

"Oh god, I hated that one!" Blaine laughed along with his husband at thought of their first place together after he joined Kurt in New York. They were fortunate that Blaine had success right away and landed several supporting roles in back-to-back-to-back shows, allowing them to eventually move to a nicer area on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

"I have been very happy here, especially with this neighborhood," Grayson said, watching the faces of Santana and of Rachel who both poked at their food in silence, then asked Cate and Quinn, "Do the two of you want to stay in the West Village?"

Cate swallowed and took a drink of water in order to answer, "Yeah, if we can…but we'll definitely need a second bedroom once the baby is here."

Quinn nearly choked on her chicken when she heard Cate's slip. She had not told anyone other than her mother that she was pregnant, and this was certainly not how she envisioned all her friends finding out.

Rachel paused mid-bite, her mouth gaping open, "Baby?"

"Uhh…I meant…that…," Cate searched for any possible way to cover her faux pas, finding none but realizing that all six sets of eyes were on her and Quinn.

"Who's having a baby?" Brittany asked, shock clearly on her face.

Quinn set down her fork and adjusted her napkin in her lap, responding nervously, "I am."

"You're pregnant?" Rachel asked bluntly.

Quinn nodded, replying, "Yes."

"Pregnant?" Brittany repeated, trying to wrap her brain around the notion, "How?"

"By fucking Puck…_again_," Santana announced with disdain, instantly remembering the morning she caught them together in Quinn's hotel room.

Blaine leaned to his left and whispered to Kurt, "Maybe we should leave?"

Kurt shook his head while picking up his wine glass and sitting back in his chair, never losing the giant grin on his face, "Not a chance."

"Quinn…?" Rachel was unsure of how the group of them was supposed to respond to this news.

"Santana is correct…I did sleep with Puck," Quinn softened the story in her version, "It was not planned, and I wish it did not happen…but it did, and I am pregnant…again."

"And you're keeping it this time?" Rachel asked.

"Yes," Quinn confirmed, "Cate and I will raise the baby…without Puck. So I would appreciate your discretion in not sharing these details with anyone else."

"Congratulations, Quinn," Grayson offered, not knowing anything else to say and not knowing who Puck was anyway.

"Thank you," Quinn replied softly, giving him a small smile.

Brittany did not know what to think or what to say, but she could feel Santana's body tense next to her. The Latina picked up her wine glass and emptied it in one gulp, setting it back on the table with a thud.

"Yeah, Q…a big round of applause on being two for two," Santana retorted, her words slurring some, "What is that? Some sort of record?"

"Santana," Brittany cautioned her wife.

"No, seriously…I mean, you fuck a guy…the _same _guy…only twice in your entire life and end up pregnant both times. That's goddamn amazing. I fucked Puckerman dozens of times and…_nothing_," the Latina scowled and gestured broadly, "You must be the most fertile woman on the face of this earth."

Quinn tucked her napkin under the edge of her plate and pushed back in her chair, standing and saying to Cate, "Let's go please."

"Why are you leaving?" Santana picked up the bottle of wine and tilted it to pour more in her glass. The glass was only a third full before Brittany took the bottle from her hands. "This party is in your honor! We had no idea there was so much to celebrate."

Quinn circled around the table to get her purse and jacket near the couch with Cate not far behind her as Santana stood up and held her glass high, turning toward the angry blonde, "Come on, Rachel…we're ready for that toast of yours. To Quinn! And to her second bastard child. Welcome to New York."

As Santana emptied her glass again, Quinn took three steps closer and slapped the Latina hard across the face, "Fuck you! You can say whatever you want about me, but don't you dare speak like that about my baby."

Quinn turned quickly and walked toward the front door, opening it and stepping out into the hall.

Santana angrily followed after her, pushing around Cate before Brittany could grab her, calling to her, "Santana! Stop!"

"You think you're so fucking special, don't you?" Santana stepped in front of Quinn before she could go down the stairs.

"Do you seriously think this is something I wanted?" Quinn asked.

"No, I don't…that's just it. You don't even want a baby…but for some fucking reason, you get TWO of them," Santana shouted, her eyes glossed over with tears, "I would do _anything_…anything at all…to have a baby, but I lost mine…and you just give yours away."

"I'm so sorry that you lost your baby, Santana, but don't take it out on me," Quinn told her.

"Do none of you think life's having a big goddamn laugh at my expense here," Santana concluded, looking at the rest of the group who stood around them, "I get raped and scarred for life…she gets drunk and pregnant…_twice_. How is that fucking fair?"

"It's not fair, Santana! I agree. If I could trade places with you, I would…I love you and Britt that much," Quinn's voice cracked with emotion, "I know you will never be satisfied until you give birth to a child. You're not even satisfied with the idea of your own wife carrying your baby."

"Shut up! I get it, ok? _Everybody_ here can get pregnant except me. I bet even Lady Hummel could if he tried," Santana screamed, moving away from the collected group and heading up the staircase toward her apartment.

"Santana, wait," Brittany called after her, saying as she passed Quinn, "I'm really sorry, Quinn."

The blonde caught up with her wife as Santana opened their front door.

"Santana, please talk to me," Brittany pleaded, shutting the door behind her and following the brunette as she went inside the bathroom, "Please don't shut yourself off again."

Santana turned around to face her wife, her words dripping with venom, "I hate all of you." She then slammed the bathroom door in Brittany's face.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Thank you for your patience while I struggled with this chapter. I hope it gave you guys some deeper detail so you understand a bit more why Santana feels so emotionally tortured.

Please leave me a review to let me know your thoughts. I appreciate hearing for each of you!


	16. Turn Yourself Around

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 16)**

_You are the hole in my head_  
><em>You are the space in my bed<em>  
><em>You are the silence in between what I thought<em>  
><em>And what I said…<em>

_You are the night time fear_  
><em>You are the morning when it's clear<em>  
><em>When it's over you'll start<em>  
><em>You're my head<em>  
><em>You're my heart…<em>

_No light, no light in your bright blue eyes_  
><em>I never knew daylight could be so violent<em>  
><em>A revelation in the light of day<em>  
><em>You can't choose what stays and what fades away…<em>

_And I'd do anything to make you stay_  
><em>No light, no light<em>  
><em>No light<em>  
><em>Tell me what you want me to say…<em>

_Through the crowd, I was crying out_  
><em>And in your place there were a thousand other faces<em>  
><em>I was disappearing in plain sight<em>  
><em>Heaven help me, I need to make it right…<em>

_You want a revelation,_  
><em>You wanna get it right<em>  
><em>But, it's a conversation,<em>  
><em>I just can't have tonight<em>  
><em>You want a revelation<em>  
><em>Some kind of resolution<em>  
><em>You want a revelation…<em>

_No light, no light in your bright blue eyes_  
><em>I never knew daylight could be so violent<em>  
><em>A revelation in the light of day,<em>  
><em>You can't choose what stays and what fades away…<em>

_And I'd do anything to make you stay_  
><em>No light, no light<em>  
><em>No light<em>  
><em>Tell me what you want me to say…<em>

_Would you leave me,_  
><em>If I told you what I've done?<em>  
><em>And would you need me,<em>  
><em>If I told you what I've become?<em>  
><em>'cause it's so easy,<em>  
><em>To say it to a crowd<em>  
><em>But it's so hard, my love,<em>  
><em>To say it to you out loud…<em>

_No light, no light in your bright blue eyes_  
><em>I never knew daylight could be so violent<em>  
><em>A revelation in the light of day,<em>  
><em>You can't choose what stays and what fades away…<em>

_And I'd do anything to make you stay_  
><em>No light, no light<em>  
><em>No light<em>  
><em>Tell me what you want me to say….<em>

(No Light, No Light ~ Florence + the Machine)

**Monday, October 10, 2022**

**8:38 PM**

"Santana!" Brittany banged on the door.

There was no response from inside the small bathroom.

"Santana…why would you say that?" she asked loudly in frustration, "To _me_ of all people?"

Silence was the only answer.

Determined to get an explanation, Brittany banged again, her fist hitting firmly on the wooden barrier. "Answer me!"

Brittany could hear movement inside. There was muffled crying and what sounded like a loud clanking.

"It wouldn't matter what you did…or how hurt I felt! I could never…ever…hate you!" she said, furious with her wife's behavior at this point, "I love you! Now open this door and talk to me, for Christ's sake!"

Santana lifted the heavy porcelain top that covered the back of the toilet, reaching down inside and pulling out a clear, frosted bottle of vodka. She unscrewed the red top and lifted it immediately to take a long, calming swallow from the bottle. Her body stopped trembling within a few seconds as she took another long drink then slid down in the small space between the toilet and the pedestal sink, leaning back against the bathroom wall.

She sat with her knees pulled up and her elbows propped on them, taking another then another drink from the tall glass bottle. The Latina's head pounded with thoughts and feelings that were coming at her in waves so fast everything seemed jumbled in translation, ultimately causing her mind to shut down. Her only salvation at the moment was the searing comfort of the liquid passing quickly through her body, slowing her breathing, sedating her emotions.

"Santana!"

The brunette jumped reflexively each time her wife pounded on the door and screamed her name. She said nothing though, partly because she had nothing to say and partly because she inwardly knew Brittany was right.

Brittany was always right. That was the pattern the two of them had. Santana acted dramatically on impulse, and Brittany calmly showed the fierce Latina the err of her ways. Only, this time, Santana had turned her wrath on her one unwavering source of support, and from the sound of things, Brittany was not going to stand for it any longer.

"Santana!"

"Go away."

"You open this door right now…or…," Brittany demanded, striking the door again then kicking the bottom edge for added emphasis, "…or I'm going to kick it down!"

"Go away, I said!" Santana yelled louder, her voice booming from the interior of the small space.

"Brittany?"

The blonde turned toward the sound of her name to find Quinn Fabray standing there with Cate Boyd a few steps behind her.

"The door was cracked open," Quinn told her best friend, "I knocked first."

"I didn't hear you," Brittany responded, letting out a long breath of air and leaning her forehead against the bathroom door.

"Britt…?" Quinn stepped closer toward Brittany.

Brittany looked to the side and could see now that Quinn definitely appeared pregnant. She let out a half sigh, half laugh. She found it curiously amusing what the eye will overlook until it sees things in clearer context.

"What do you want, Quinn?" Brittany asked with a mildly dismissive tone, having a much bigger problem on the other side of the bathroom door.

"Cate felt we should just leave and let everyone cool off, but…," Quinn explained hesitantly, "I don't want there to be any animosity between any of us."

Brittany didn't respond to the shorter blonde, her mind still trying to wrap itself around the revelation that Quinn was pregnant again with Puck's baby. Santana was right about one thing…it did feel like fate was having a huge laugh at their expense.

She knocked again on the door in front of her, softer this time, hoping to coax her wife out of her bitter rage.

"Santana?" Brittany tried a kinder approach, "Santana, please?"

"Can I try?" Quinn asked timidly.

Brittany paused to weigh in her mind whether that was a good idea. Feeling at a loss over her own attempts, she stepped back and gestured toward the door, "Be my guest."

Quinn closed the gap between herself and the wooden barrier and knocked, "Santana, it's Quinn."

"Go away, Fabray!"

"We promised each other long ago that we'd have no judgment between us," she waited a beat before saying, "I also promised you that I would always be there for you."

Santana said nothing.

"You're hurting. That's what this is really about," the Yale professor stated objectively, "Pushing us all away won't make the hurt go away. Trust me…I know." Quinn looked over her shoulder at Cate.

Cate Boyd smiled supportively.

"We all love you, Santana...your wife especially," Quinn tried, "but you have to take a step toward us."

There was a long silence followed by a loud sound of something crashing inside the bathroom.

"Santana!" Brittany nudged Quinn out of the way to twist the doorknob, banging on it frantically, "Santana, open up…are you alright?"

Brittany kicked the door again then hit it with her shoulder.

"I can't get it open!" she said to the other girls, an expression of fear on her face.

"Santana, open the damn door!" Quinn said authoritatively, knocking on the door.

"Cate! Please do something," Brittany begged, "What if she's hurt?"

Cate pushed in between the younger girls, pounding the door with her open palm, "Santana! We'll break this in if you don't unlock it right now."

The three of them looked at each other for several seconds then Brittany gave the green light, "Do it."

Cate stepped back then rammed the door with all the strength in her shoulder. The old wood around the door hinge gave way and opened up. When Cate tried opening the door wider, something prevented more movement.

"Santana!" Brittany shouted from behind Cate, seeing her wife's legs on the floor behind the door.

She squeezed inside the bathroom, stepping over Santana who lay face down on the floor.

"Tan, are you okay?" Brittany lifted on her wife's shoulders, pulling up the dead weight of her upper body.

Cate opened the door all the way once Santana was no longer blocking it. She saw no visible injuries on the younger brunette, scanning the small interior for any indication as to what happened.

"Did she hit her head?" Quinn asked, kneeling in the tight space.

Cate saw that the towel rack was halfway broken off the wall and it hung down as if Santana tried to grab at it.

"Not that I can tell," Brittany answered, gently patting Santana's face to rouse her, "Santana...honey?"

Curious as to why the lid to the back of the toilet was off and sitting on the closed bowl, Cate passed behind Quinn to look inside. She was taken aback to find a nearly-empty bottle of vodka set down in it. Pulling it out, she held it up and said, "Do you guys always keep your liquor in the bathroom?"

Brittany and Quinn both looked up at the tall girl with puzzled expressions then looked back down at Santana who was passed out cold with her head in Brittany's lap.

"Britt, she's drunk," Quinn stated, bending close enough to Santana's face to smell the alcohol.

"Well…she had a lot of wine at dinner," Brittany excused, running a caress down Santana's face then looking back up at Cate and the bottle she held, "I don't know what that is doing in here. Santana's doesn't even drink vodka."

"Somebody's been drinking this, Brittany," Cate pointed out. She turned the bottle sideways then back up to emphasize its emptiness. "Somebody's been drinking _a lot_ of this."

"You don't know it was Santana, Cate!" Brittany raised her voice which echoed in the tiny space. Collecting her emotions with a deep, shaky breath, the blonde dancer asked, "Would you two please leave?"

"Britt…," Quinn ran a supportive hand down Brittany's upper arm, her face pleading with her old friend to not close off and deny the situation that was right in front of them.

"Q, go…please?"

"At least let us help you get her in bed," Cate insisted, helping her girlfriend to a standing position before lifting on Santana.

Between the two of them, Brittany and Cate easily carried Santana to the bed where Brittany closed the drape in order to have privacy in the studio apartment to undress her wife and put her in a comfortable sleep shirt then tuck her under the covers.

The tall blonde stepped out from behind the colorful fabric divider and walked toward the couch where Quinn and Cate sat. She folded her long arms and said, "Thank you for your help."

"Did she wake up?" Quinn asked with a look of concern on her attractive face.

"No," Brittany responded, pausing before adding, "She's totally out."

"Do you still want us to go?" Quinn bit at her lip.

"Yes, please just go," Brittany sighed, moving toward the front door. As Quinn passed in front of her, Brittany stopped the shorter blonde with a hand on her shoulder, "Quinn, I'm sorry about all this."

"Don't be sorry, Britt," Quinn put her arms around Brittany, squeezing her tightly and assuring her, "I love you guys."

Brittany squeezed her back, feeling tears forming in her eyes. She sniffed then requested, "Please don't say anything about this to anyone…ok?"

Quinn nodded and kissed Brittany on the cheek then she stepped into the hallway.

"Call us if you need anything at all," Cate told Brittany, hugging her too.

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, October 10, 2022<strong>

**10:03 PM**

Quinn Fabray stretched out on the king-sized bed in her hotel room and rubbed at the growing bump in her abdomen, sighing heavily at the culmination of events that played out earlier in the evening. What should have been an enjoyable reunion of old friends coupled with the excitement of Quinn's new job and renewed relationship with Cate turned into a tragic train wreck of emotions.

The blonde professor closed her tired eyes to rest her pounding head, but her thoughts were only of her dearest friends. The sight of Santana passed out on the floor and the heartache that was written across Brittany's face was too much to shake off.

"Honey," Cate said at full volume, coming around the corner from the en suite bathroom, but she lowered her voice when she saw Quinn relaxing and said, "Oh sorry, I didn't know you were already asleep."

Quinn opened then closed her eyes. "I'm awake."

Cate slipped off her pants and put them over the back of a nearby chair, climbing under the bed covers in just her black boxer briefs and white, ribbed tank. She closed the distance between herself and Quinn, wrapping her arms around the blonde and snuggling her with her chin on Quinn's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Cate inquired lovingly.

"Mmmhmm," Quinn was almost too tired to speak, confirming, "I'll survive."

"Both of you?" Cate kissing Quinn's bare shoulder.

"We're both tough…we can take it," Quinn assured her girlfriend, "Aren't you glad you're back among the Glee crowd? We're a barrel of laughs, aren't we?"

Cate chuckled, "Tonight was…_interesting_…to say the least."

"Hmmm…well, it was your big mouth that set it off," Quinn teased lightly, reaching under the covers for Cate's hand.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Cate grimaced, squeezing Quinn's hand in hers.

Quinn sighed, her eyes still closed.

The older girl watched Quinn's face, relishing in the shared intimacy that came with being back together, and she saw a tear escape and roll down her beautiful face.

Cate nuzzled further into Quinn's body, "I am _really_ sorry, sweetheart."

Quinn opened her eyes and turned toward Cate, assuring her, "I know, it's okay. I knew Santana was going to freak no matter when she found out."

"She's spiraling down again. She needs help," Cate observed, "People don't just store liquor in the back of their toilet for lack of space."

"I know," Quinn sighed. The look on Brittany's face told Quinn everything. It was clear that Brittany did not even know they had vodka in the apartment, and Quinn had never known either of them to be heavy drinkers.

"Maybe you should call her dads…or even her mom?" Cate suggested.

Quinn shrugged. "I promised Brittany I wouldn't say anything."

The brunette kissed Quinn's cheek, nudging her gently, "Honey, that's just going to compound the problem."

"I don't know what to do," the younger girl swallowed hard and turned more into Cate's embrace.

Cate Boyd held Quinn tightly as she cried.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday, October, 11, 2022<strong>

**9:46AM**

Santana opened her eyelids, but they felt so heavy, they closed again on their own. Her head was pounding so hard and her throat was so dry and scratchy that she could not drift back into sleep.

She opened her eyes again to see full sunlight. Her movement had to be forced, but Santana managed to turn from her right side onto her back, closing her eyes again to block out the morning sun. To help with the transition from dead of sleep to consciousness, she draped an arm over her face, letting out a long flow of air.

As she lay there, becoming more oriented that she was in her bed inside her apartment, she smelled food cooking and nearly gagged. She sat up suddenly and threw the covers back, making her way quickly to the bathroom and dropping to her knees in front of the toilet where she threw up.

Santana wiped at her mouth as she pushed herself up to her feet, bracing against the wall and moving the back of the toilet. When she reached in to locate the bottle of vodka she'd hidden, it was gone.

"Fuck," she said aloud, closing her eyes a second to steady her body. After putting the heavy porcelain back in place, she rinsed her mouth and face with some cold water at the sink then walked out into the bedroom.

The brunette looked over her shoulder to see Brittany busy in the kitchen so she stepped over to the large chest of drawers at the foot of their bed. She opened her clothes drawer and ran her hand under several neatly folded t-shirts and cotton pants. Not finding what she was looking for, she dug more frantically in the drawer and the drawer below.

Santana took a deep breath, noticing her hands were trembling and her vision was distorted. She turned around without shutting the drawers and moved toward the far side of the room, immediately going over to the lower kitchen cabinets, opening the doors and pushing aside a set of large bowls and a few pantry items.

Brittany paused, standing at the sink where she was rinsing a dirty pan, and asked, "Looking for something?"

"Huh? No…I mean, yes…sort of," Santana stammered, covering her rising desperation by asking, "Do we have any crackers."

"Yes," Brittany said matter-of-factly, drying her hands to open one of the upper cabinets, removing a white and blue box of saltines, and setting it down on the kitchen counter, "Where we _always_ keep them."

"Oh…great," Santana replied with a grimace, standing to full height and opening the box to pull out a sleeve, "Thanks."

"No problem," Brittany snipped, grabbing toast from the toaster and putting them on a plate, "I made breakfast. Sit down and eat with me."

Santana subtly checked under another lower cabinet nearer the sink then in an upper cabinet, behind a large casserole dish, before passing behind her wife to sit in one of the two chairs at their small table. Her post-drunken haze lifted rapidly when she sat down and realized what waited for her.

In the center of the table sat every liquor bottle Santana had searched out, two smaller bottles from her clothes drawers and four taller ones, including the vodka bottle from the bathroom and two white wine bottles she had filled with hard liquor once the wine was gone.

Santana's gaze moved from the collected bottles to her wife's face as Brittany sat a plate of eggs and toast in front of her then plopped down in the chair across the table.

"Find what you were looking for?" Brittany said nonchalantly without looking up, picking up her fork to take a bite of scrambled eggs.

Santana did not immediately respond, mulling over in her mind the appropriate exit from this situation.

"Do you want me to get you a wine glass? Or will you just be drinking out of the bottle?" Brittany asked with a snide tone, smearing some butter onto her piece of toast.

Santana wanted very much to take a long drink from any of the five bottles on the table, calling Brittany's bluff. Instead, she closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths, hoping to steady her emotions and her nerves.

"You should eat something. It'll absorb whatever's left in your stomach from last night," Brittany suggested.

Santana opened her eyes and looked at her wife. She had known Brittany for twenty years, since they were children in grade school. She had seen every emotion that could ever be felt cross Brittany's face at one time or another…or so she thought. The look that was on the blonde's face at this very moment was new to Santana. This look was one of ultimate disillusionment, and the light that always shone so brightly in Brittany's blue eyes, especially when she looked at Santana, had now faded.

"I can't," Santana told her, her words barely above a mumbled whisper.

Brittany stared at the pale brunette for a second before asking, "Why not?"

"You know why…eggs make me sick," Santana snapped back, pushing on the plate to move it out from under her nose, "I can't even stand the smell of them anymore. They remind me of being pregnant…and the baby."

"Everything reminds you of the baby," Brittany snapped.

"You don't have to be nasty to me just because I can't stomach your eggs," Santana stated.

"You really think the problem here is some eggs?" Brittany dropped her fork and stood up, picking up Santana's plate and walking over to the silver trash bin. She stepped on the foot pedal then tossed in the eggs with the plate and all. She turned back toward the round table and proclaimed, "There! Better? No more goddamn eggs."

Feeling she had nothing to lose, Santana lifted one of the half-full wine bottles, popping the cork and taking a long drink.

Brittany sat back down in a huff and crunched another bite of toast. "Keep doing that, Tan…because alcohol will definitely solve all your problems."

Santana slammed the bottle down on the table, causing everything to rattle. "You don't know what I feel!"

"You're right! I don't know what you feel, because you won't talk to me about anything," Brittany yelled back, "But if you think I don't suffer too then you are wrong! You are not the only one hurting here. That was my child too…and now _I_ have lost you both."

"Shut up!" Santana screamed, standing and walking toward the bathroom since it was the only place in the apartment where she could separate herself.

Brittany's long legs carried her quickly past the angry Latina so she could block her entrance. "Don't walk away from me…we need to talk through this."

"You will _never_ understand what I feel…my life was ruined by someone who is walking around this town with no real consequences," Santana denounced.

"Your life is being ruined by _you_, Santana!" Brittany spat back. "We had just enough…we had us, and it was wonderful…until you got fixated on getting pregnant. I don't even know now if it's about actually having a child…or if it's more about _proving_ to yourself you can."

"You're blaming all this on me?" Santana was unable to comprehend the complexities Brittany pointed out.

"No, I'm not. I love you, Santana. I understand what the rape did to you, the scars it left, physically and…mentally. Nobody understands better than me."

"No you don't! You don't understand!" Santana screamed at Brittany, "If you did then you wouldn't be treating me this way."

"Treating you how? Walking on egg shells around you? Never wanting to upset you? Feeling invisible but scared I'll say the wrong thing. Loving you? Is that the awful way I'm treating you?" Brittany retorted, hurt mixed with anger flashing behind her blue eyes, "Do you know how agonizing it is to sit around this apartment and watch you self-destruct all over again?"

The fire in Santana's dark eyes was enough to char everything in her path as she reached under the bed and pulled out an overnight bag, tossing it at Brittany's feet, "Then get out while you can!"

"What?" Brittany grimaced.

"I'm serious…leave! Pack your things and go someplace that's cheery and happy all the time…where you don't have to worry so much…where you don't even have to think about me," Santana prodded, kicking the suitcase closer toward Brittany, "Go on…leave!"

Brittany stared at her wife, seeing the Latina's nostrils flaring in and out she was breathing so heavily. Her first thought was to walk over and hold Santana down and hug her tightly until every bad thought was purged from her body. The second thought she had was that they were at such extreme odds now that perhaps some space would do them some good.

Quietly, Brittany picked up the bag and set it up on the bed then placed several items of clothing in it before grabbing her brush and toothbrush from the bathroom. When she zipped it closed, the sound echoed in the silence that surrounded them, startling the couple, causing them each to jump slightly.

Brittany put the strap of the suitcase over her shoulder and said, "Excuse me."

Santana moved toward the wall to allow Brittany to pass then watched her as she walk toward the front door, pausing to pick up her dance bag and her messenger bag.

The blonde pulled her keys off the hook by the door before opening it and stepping through the doorway. She turned back for a brief moment and locked eyes with Santana, telling her, "I love you."

Brittany closed the door behind her and stepped down the first three stairs before pausing and looking back up at their apartment door. She stood there for several seconds, tears streaming down her freckled face, then she took a deep breath and continued walking.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Please don't leave a review that tells me there is too much angst in this story. If you have lived this scenario as I have then you know the heartache and darkness that comes with it. I know some of you don't understand the agony of infertility. Santana is not simply being overly dramatic or obnoxious. She is sincerely in mental pain. I have witnessed this, and I know the toll it takes on a couple.

If it is too much for you to tolerate then perhaps you should read a different story. If you trust me though as your writer then give me your faith that I will give you a good read and that I truly believe things have a way of working out in the end. I will not leave you unsatisfied at the end of this fic. So if you trust me then please keep reading.

If you have anything else to say then I would be glad to hear it. Thank you, Kim.


	17. When All Your Love is Gone

**Author's Note:**Thank you upfront for your patience as you waited for this update. I took an unscheduled but much-needed mental hiatus. Do not fret though, because I am back in full force and ready to continue on with this story. Lots will happen so buckle your seatbelt and keep an open mind!

* * *

><p><strong>Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 17)<strong>

_I've fallen out of favour_  
><em>And I've fallen from grace<em>  
><em>Fallen out of trees<em>  
><em>And I've fallen on my face<em>  
><em>Fallen out of taxis<em>  
><em>Out of windows too<em>  
><em>Fell in your opinion<em>  
><em>When I fell in love with you…<em>

_Sometimes I wish for falling_  
><em>Wish for the release<em>  
><em>Wish for falling through the air<em>  
><em>To give me some relief,<em>  
><em>Because falling's not the problem<em>  
><em>When I'm falling, I'm at peace<em>  
><em>It's only when I hit the ground<em>  
><em>It causes all the grief…<em>

_This is a song for a scribbled out name_  
><em>And my love keeps writing again and again<em>  
><em>This is a song for a scribbled out name<em>  
><em>And my love keeps writing again and again and again and again and again and again and again…<em>

_I dance myself up_  
><em>Drunk myself down<em>  
><em>Found people to love<em>  
><em>Left people to drown<em>  
><em>I'm not scared to jump<em>  
><em>I'm not scared to fall<em>  
><em>If there was nowhere to land,<em>  
><em>I wouldn't be scared at all…<em>

_Sometimes I wish for falling_  
><em>Wish for the release<em>  
><em>Wish for falling through the air<em>  
><em>To give me some relief,<em>  
><em>Because falling's not the problem<em>  
><em>When I'm falling I'm at peace<em>  
><em>It's only when I hit the ground<em>  
><em>It causes all the grief….<em>

**(Falling ~ Florence + the Machine)**

**Friday, October 21, 2022**  
><strong>9:38 PM<strong>

"Another drink?"

Santana Lopez was too lost in thought to hear the question. She had been sitting on the end stool, nearest the door, steadily numbing her senses for the past hour and a half. As she sat there, she absentmindedly poked at the ice in her glass with a tiny straw.

"Hello in there," a cute girl with short and spiky, magenta hair said as she knocked on the large wooden bar, "Want a fresh one?"

Santana finally looked up, her glazed eyes slowly focusing on the older face of the bartender, and nodded.

"Sticking with Jack and Coke?" the bartender gestured toward Santana whose face lacked any expression.

"Double Jack…," the Latina answered quickly, her words were garbled when she added, "…hold the Coke this time."

The bartender smiled knowingly, having seen Santana in the bar several times over the past few weeks, agreeing, "Sure thing."

Santana set the straw on the damp, white napkin under her glass then picked it up and drained the last bit of liquid, spitting an ice cube back in the glass before setting it down.

She rubbed her palms on the legs of her jeans to wipe off moisture before she reached into the front pocket and pulled out some folded cash. The Latina looked back over her shoulder toward the door as it opened and a group of younger girls entered. Her gaze followed them as they laughed and playfully elbowed each other, walking over toward an oversized, round booth in the corner of the bar and all pushing in to sit down.

The buzz Santana had going was rather strong but was still not enough to anesthetize her from the tug in her chest at the sight of seemingly-happy people…happy people who were out on a Friday night to have fun. She swallowed hard and turned back around as the bartender returned in front of her.

"Double Jack, no Coke," the girl confirmed with a wink, setting the fresh drink in front of Santana, "That'll be $14."

The friendly bartender paused as the younger brunette counted the money in her hand. Santana had a wad of cash in her pocket when she first walked around the corner and into the neighborhood lesbian bar, but she was now down to a five and three ones. The brunette fanned out the last bit of money she had, looking up at the older girl.

"Maybe you should've kept it a single," the bartender joked to cover Santana's obvious uneasiness.

"No…no," Santana fidgeted on the round seat under her, setting the money on the counter and assuring the woman, "I can cover it."

She reached back into her pocket to pull out a plastic card, handing it over hesitantly, "Here…just run a tab."

The debit card was the only method of payment Santana had available since Brittany left two weeks ago, and she had been shrewd about when and where she used it. She only used it when she went by the grocery store or the coffee shop or at the pharmacy, drawing cash back from each transaction. The Latina was convinced her method was solid and Brittany would never find out about her taking the cash immediately to the liquor store or the bar each time.

The bartender smiled again and took the card from Santana, "Gotcha. Be right back."

Santana looked back over her shoulder at the booth of young lesbians, and she swallowed hard at the paired-off couples who were cuddling and kissing each other. The last thing Santana wanted tonight was to confirm with a debit charge that she was out drinking at the bar even though, ever since her wife walked out, drinking at the bar was her main activity other than drinking alone in the darkness of her apartment.

Santana took the small straw out of the glass and calmed herself with a long sip of the strong drink, enjoying the heat from the smooth liquid as it coated her throat on its way down, her troubles quickly washing away.

"Bad news, love…it was declined," the bartender grimaced as she laid the blue plastic card on the dark wood of the bar, "Enjoy that one on me…then you better call it a night."

"But…I don't understand…," the dark-haired beauty mentally scrambled, "I…I used it yesterday…at the store."

The bartender shrugged and wiped at her work station with a white cloth, "Call your bank in the morning, I guess. Sometimes they place weird holds."

"Thanks," Santana remembered to say to her, taking another sip of the hard liquor.

"No problem," the older girl smiled sympathetically then turned away.

Santana suddenly felt very jittery, the exact opposite of how she anticipated feeling by this point in the evening. _Would Brittany cut me off…just like that_, she thought to herself…_Why would she do that? _

She pulled out her cell phone and laid it on the top of the bar, her hand hovering nervously over the screen as she tried to decide if she should call her wife.

The Latina heard the bartender say to another customer, "What can I get you?"

"Bud Light," a light-haired girl responded, leaning into the wood of the bar.

"You got it," the bartender acknowledged and tossed the white cloth over her left shoulder as she walked to the other end.

The girl drummed her fingertips on the countertop as she waited, glancing casually over at Santana who happen to look up at the same time, making eye contact.

"Hi," the girl said in a friendly manner.

Santana forced a half-smile and gave a small nod of her head before taking a long swallow to finish her drink.

The girl was around the same age as Santana and was equally attractive. She wore a t-shirt with a v-neck that showed off her cleavage and a rope necklace with a cool silver pendant. Her smile widened and her hazel-colored eyes lit up as her gaze moved subtly from Santana's face down her shapely form to her brown-skinned hands which were still wrapped tightly around her glass.

The bartender returned momentarily and set a brown bottle in front of the girl, "Anything else?"

The girl handed over some cash and motioned toward Santana's empty glass, "A refill?"

"Sure," the bartender chuckled, shaking her head as she put the money in the cash register behind her before picking up the bottle of whisky.

"Thank you," Santana replied with a bigger smile toward the girl when the bartender poured more alcohol in her glass.

"No worries. You look like you're having a rough day," the girl said casually, raising the volume of her voice to speak over the music playing in the background.

"Yeah…rotten," Santana confirmed with a slight laugh, picking up her glass and taking another sip.

"I'm sorry," the girl frowned, taking a seat on the stool next to the brunette, "Mind if I join you?"

The Latina hesitated a second, instinctively reaching to twist the wedding band on her left ring finger before remembering she had not worn it in weeks. She sighed and said, "Sure."

"I'm Charlotte," she told Santana, lifting the beer bottle to her lips for a swallow.

"Santana," the dark-haired beauty reciprocated the introduction, appreciative to the girl for supplying a distraction as much as for supplying the drink. The Latina took a deep breath and stuffed her phone back inside the pocket of her jeans, taking another sip and feeling somewhat more composed.

"Well, Santana…I have a rule that I won't let anyone drink alone when they're having a rotten day," Charlotte informed her, clicking her bottle against Santana's glass.

Santana took another sip and smiled back at the girl.

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday, October 22, 2022<br>12:23 AM  
><strong>  
>"Thanks, man," Grayson Knox handed cash to the cab driver before pushing out and shutting the yellow door behind him.<p>

The moon was bright overhead as he stepped around a parked car and up onto the sidewalk near his apartment building, pulling his keys from his side pocket and pausing on the front steps.

"Santana?" he acknowledged one of the two females who were trying to unlock the front door of the building.

The darker-haired female turned toward the sound of his voice. "Heeey, Gray!" she responded loudly, reaching up to pat his shoulder.

"Hey back," Grayson put an arm out to steady the Latina's stance.

"This is Grayson…my neighbor…neighbor, neighbro…he's my neighbro," Santana laughed hysterically at her own joke, falling further into Grayson's muscular form, hugging him, "We're bros…right, Gray? Best buds."

"Right," he responded, "Best buds for sure." He could smell the alcohol on Santana's breath if her words and mannerisms were not enough of an indication of how drunk she was.

"This is…," the brunette tried to introduce the other girl, "…um…sorry, what did you say your name is?"

"Charlotte," the light-haired girl responded in a much-less drunken manner.

"Yeah, Charlotte," Santana repeated with a pause, not recalling that being the name of the girl she just spent the last three hours with, "Charlotte was helping me home. Isn't that nice of her, Gray?"

"Very," Grayson answered, leaning forward to put his key in the lock, "Thank you, Charlotte. I've got it from here though. Goodnight."

The tall blond finished unlocking and opening the entry door, stepping past the other girl and pulling Santana up the remaining step and into the building.

"Goodnight, Charlotte," the Latina waived back at the attractive girl.

"Oh, here's your phone. I saved my number in it," Charlotte said and handed the phone to Santana with a smile, "Give me a call sometime."

"Oops need that," Santana giggled, tripping over the raised portion of the doorframe.

"Goodnight," Grayson repeated toward the disappointed girl, shutting the door quickly.

"She's nice," Santana slurred, "And pretty…huh?"

"Let's get you upstairs," Grayson put his strong arm around Santana's slim waist and lifted her up the first couple of steps.

As they climbed, Santana rambled, "She looks a little like Britt, huh? Her hair kinda…not her eyes though. Britt's eyes are sooo blue…such a beautiful blue…like the ocean…on a warm day. Beautiful…like her."

"I know you miss her," Grayson tightened his grip around Santana, trying to keep the two of them moving up the long climb to the sixth floor.

"She left me," Santana's tone changed instantly to anger, "I needed her, and she left me."

"Call her and tell her that," he suggested.

"She knows she left, Grayson," Santana snapped.

"Does she know that you need her?"

Santana stopped moving and pulled away from him. "She hates me now. Do you know what she did?"

Grayson stopped too and looked down at the angry brunette. "What did she do?"

"She cut me off. She cut off my debit card," the alcohol was inciting Santana's bitterness, "She wants me to suffer."

"I doubt that," he sighed heavily, knowing Brittany would never intentionally hurt her wife, then got them moving again up the next flight of stairs.

"I have no money, Gray," Santana stated, tripping every two or three steps, "I have no way to pay for anything."

Grayson helped her keep her balance.

"What about when I need food?" she asked, her rising voice echoing in the open stairwell.

"Then I'll take you shopping. We'll get you whatever you need," Grayson assured her calmly.

"I need money," she stopped abruptly in front of him, specifying, "Cash."

"Then get a job. You're self-sufficient…and talented as hell," he said adamantly, "Call your agent. Go on some auditions."

"It's not that easy," Santana protested, gesturing broadly.

"True…you'd have to sober up first," he retorted.

Santana turned in a huff and stumbled up the next couple of stairs before Grayson caught her by the arm, keeping her from falling to the floor of the fifth floor landing.

"San, stop…I'm sorry," he told her.

She faced him again, her words still slurring, "Fuck you, Grayson. The doors don't just open for girls like me. I'm not Rachel Berry."

"You're right, you're not. You are Santana Lopez-Pierce," he reminded, "I've seen you perform on stage…and you were absolutely amazing."

Santana looked at him, his words of encouragement filtering through the haze of liquor in her head. The expression on her face changed from irritation to opportunity as she enticed, "Then you pay me."

"What?" he said in confusion.

"You…pay…_me_," she moved closer to him, running a finger down the center of his chest, beguiling, "I'll dance and sing for you, and you pay me…cash."

Grayson let out an awkward laugh, pulling her hand away from his belt. "Uhh…no."

"Geez, Gray…lighten up," Santana turned, moving toward the front door of the apartment, "How about a drink then?"

He walked up behind her and took her hand off the doorknob, "That's not my door, dear…and you've had plenty to drink tonight."

"Come on, Grayson," she turned into his body and looked up at him, "One little drink. I won't leave you disappointed."

"No," he said firmly, pulling her toward the staircase that led to her apartment on the next floor.

"Why not? I'm very sexy, I'll have you know!"

"I know you are, Santana. I also know you are very drunk…and very married," Grayson confirmed as he bent slightly and hoisted the Latina over his broad shoulder, adding, "…and so very, _very_ gay."

Grayson walked up the remaining flight of stairs holding tightly to a feisty, kicking Latina. When he reached the door to apartment 6C, he used Santana's keys to unlock it.

He moved across the darken interior, pausing to turn on the living room lamp, then tossed Santana butt-first onto her bed.

"You need sleep," he told her with a paternal tone, "and tomorrow, instead of getting shit-faced all over again…how about you clean up this place a little. It smells like a frat house during rush week in here."

As he spoke, he moved around the small apartment, picking up a couple of moldy, white Chinese take-out containers from the coffee table and tossing them into the silver garbage can.

He then set up on the kitchen counter a large pizza box he found in the middle of the floor. He took an empty wine bottle from the kitchen table and two empty liquor bottles from the sink and threw those away too before he opened the refrigerator to see what food Santana had available.

"First you reject me…refuse to be a fucking gentleman and offer me a goddamn drink…then you insult my housekeeping?" Santana yelled from the far side of the room.

Grayson did not see much of anything edible but removed a carton of milk from the fridge and smelled it. "Ugh," he involuntarily reacted then poured out the soured milk in the sink, washing it away with fresh water from the tap, "When is the last time you ate _real_ food?"

"I eat real food, you ass," she shouted, throwing one of her black boots across at him as he moved toward the front door, "Don't talk to me like I'm some child."

He opened the front door then stepped out in the hallway, hiding a half-empty liquor bottle behind his leg, before turning back toward her and saying, "Go ahead and get rid of all your frustration tonight, Santana…then put on your pajamas, brush your teeth, and go to sleep."

"Get out!" she demanded.

"Goodnight, Santana," he said, shutting the door as her other black boot hit it. He locked the two deadbolts from the outside and put her key ring in his pocket then walked down the stairs to his apartment.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I also wanted to thank so many of you for your reviews and words of support after my AN at the end of the last chapter. You have no idea what it means to me as an author to have the faith of my readers, especially when the subject matter is difficult and dark. I wish I could hug each and every one of y'all. I do promise you this story will come full-circle in one form or another. Thanks, Kim


	18. Maybe, Maybe, Maybe

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 18)**

_Grey ceiling on the Earth  
>Well, it's lasted for a while<br>Take my thoughts for what they're worth  
>I've been acting like a child<br>In your opinion, and what is that?  
>It's just a different point of view…<em>

_What else, what else can I do?_  
><em>I said, I'm sorry, yeah I'm sorry<em>  
><em>I said, I'm sorry, but what for?<em>  
><em>If I hurt you then I hate myself.<em>  
><em>Don't want to hate myself, don't want to hurt you.<em>  
><em>Why do you choose your pain?<em>  
><em>If you only knew how much I love you, love you…<em>

_I won't be your winter_  
><em>I won't be anyone's excuse to cry<em>  
><em>We can be forgiven<em>  
><em>I will be here…<em>

_The old picture on the shelf_  
><em>Well, it's been there for a while<em>  
><em>A frozen image of ourselves<em>  
><em>We are acting like a child<em>  
><em>Innocent and in a trance<em>  
><em>A dance that lasted for a while…<em>

_You read my eyes just like your diary,_  
><em>Oh remember, please remember<em>  
><em>Well, I'm not a beggar, but what's more<em>  
><em>If I hurt you, then I hate myself,<em>  
><em>And I don't wanna hate myself, don't wanna hurt you.<em>  
><em>Why do you choose that pain?<em>  
><em>If you only knew how much I love you…<em>

_I won't be your winter_  
><em>I won't be anyone's excuse to cry<em>  
><em>We can be forgiven<em>  
><em>I will be here….<em>

_**(Your Winter ~ Sister Hazel)**_

**Sunday, October 23, 2022  
>3:28 PM<br>**  
>Grayson Knox shifted the brown paper sack in his hand so he could unlocked the apartment door in front of him. When he pushed it opened, the interior was a stark contrast to the gloomy darkness he experienced Friday night. The room was now brightly lit by the sun coming in through the large living room window, and he could immediately see Santana sitting up on the couch, legs folded under her, flipping pages in a journal-like book.<p>

"Good afternoon," he said jovially as he entered and shut the door behind him, moving toward the kitchen to set down his paper sack. This was his third trip up to apartment 6C to check on Santana, but the two times before, he found her sound asleep.

He looked over his shoulder at the silent Latina as he moved about, removing a fresh loaf of bread from the top of the sack and placing it on the counter. He hummed softly to keep an upbeat atmosphere while he pulled out jars of peanut butter and strawberry jam along with half a dozen eggs, a block of cheddar cheese, fresh milk, a box of cereal, pasta and pasta sauce, things he knew Santana enjoyed and which seemed easy enough for her to make for herself.

As he set the cold items in the small fridge, he asked nonchalantly, "Finally get enough sleep?"

Santana looked up at him with black-framed glasses perched on her nose and responded coldly, "Why are you here?"

A small chuckle escaped before he answered, "Helping you."

"I don't need anyone's help," she said, adding with disdain, "Especially yours."

Grayson folded his muscular arms across his chest as he stood in the middle of the room, staring down at Santana and contemplating what more to say. He found it sad looking at her, knowing how impeccable she typically appeared.

Her dark hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail on top of her head. It looked unwashed and disheveled as did the rest of her appearance. The beautiful, spirited girl he knew so well sat in front of him masked as someone who looked well-beyond her twenty-eight years, a girl who was currently lethargic, pale, and grungy.

He spotted a coffee mug on the small table to the left side of the couch. When Santana reached for it to take a sip and set it back down, Grayson turned and looked at the coffee pot on the kitchen counter. There was no coffee in it.

He walked over and picked it up, sniffing the brown, potent liquid inside, then took it to the sink and poured out the whiskey.

"HEY!" Santana reacted harshly, "I was drinking that."

"I know," he said when he turned back around toward the side counter, opening a cabinet to see if there was actual coffee he could make her. Finding a small amount in a clear canister on the second shelf, he put in a filter and measured out some of the ground beans.

"Who told you to come by here and babysit me?" she yelled across the room, "Rachel? Brittany?"

"Me," he answered firmly, filling the coffee maker with water then turning it on, adding, "Believe it or not…I care about you, Santana." He turned to face her again, "I'm worried about you. We _all _are."

"Whatever," she mumbled, shutting her journal and setting it across from her on the coffee table.

"You are worth caring about," he confirmed sympathetically, stepping closer toward the couch and picking up the book that said _**Pregnancy Journal **_in bold letters on its front cover.

"Are you my savior, Grayson?" Santana chuckled dismissively, looking up at him, her head tilted, "Are you here to save me?"

"No," he shook his head, "No, I'm here to remind you that _you _still have the ability to save yourself."

Santana laughed harder even though it was a forced, fake-type laugh.

"What's funny about that?" Grayson asked.

"I'm beyond saving," she retorted, her words slurring slightly.

"Nobody is ever beyond redemption," he assured her.

"Do you have even the slightest clue what I've been through?"

"Yeah…I do," he stated confidently, "It's called 'Life', Santana. We've all had to suffer through it to one extent or another."

The brunette stared back at her dear friend, somewhat stunned at his unrelenting attitude toward her.

"Sometimes we have no control over what knocks us down," he held up the journal Santana diligently wrote in for the three months she was pregnant, "but, we do have a choice as to whether we stand back up and try again."

"You don't understand," she sighed heavily and looked down at her hands folded in her lap.

"You're right, I don't understand. I don't understand how you could do this to yourself…to your family. You've given up."

Santana stood in order to retreat into the bathroom, but Grayson stepped in front of her.

"Let me by," she said to him through gritted teeth.

"You can't escape life forever, Santana."

"I'm not escaping…I'm _**suffering**_," she raised her voice in frustration.

"You are hiding! You're avoiding and you're numbing," he insisted.

"YES I'm numbing! I'm numbing because my life is a tragedy, Grayson," she screamed at him, pushing him with all the strength in both of her arms, "Now move out of the way and let me suffer in peace."

"You think your life is a tragedy?" he asked with exasperation, "Because you were raped, right?"

"I lost my child because of it…you don't think that's tragic?" she yelled again, looking somewhat shocked that it wasn't obvious to him.

"Yes, I think your miscarriage was heartbreakingly sad…for you and for Brittany. I witnessed it, remember?" he stated loudly with the same intensity, "My heart hurts for _both _of you."

Santana looked off to the side, the chaos of that night flashing in her memory.

"I understand your loss, because **I've **suffered it too," he pushed on with insistence, forcing her attention back to him. "My son had a name, Santana. He was a real person. He had the brightest blue eyes you've ever seen…and a smile that could melt the coldest heart," Grayson recalled with a calmer tone, tears welling up in his smoky-blue eyes as he spoke of Gage, "I lost him and my wife in a heartbeat, and _**that **_was tragic. I wanted to die right along with them. So yes, I get the type of pain you are feeling, because I've felt it…and I wanted to numb it too."

The Latina shook her head in refusal to listen further, trying again to push past him, but Grayson held tightly to her smaller frame.

"I dug myself a gutter that I thought I would never crawl out of…but ultimately, I did. And I'm standing on my own two feet again. And I'm in front of you right now to remind you that you can stand again too," he declared confidently.

Santana's resistance evaporated, and she sat down on the edge of her bed. Her shoulders shook as she started crying.

Grayson took a deep breath and wiped at the corners of his eyes then kneeled on the floor in front of her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"I have nothing left," she told him, her voice cracking under the force of her emotions.

"You have plenty left," he reassured her, comforting her with a soft stroke on the curve of her back.

"I've lost my wife, my career, my sanity. What do I have left?"

"You have a family who loves you," he stated, "Even when you make it difficult."

Santana sobbed harder into Grayson's shoulder.

"And wherever there is love, there is a reason to keep going," he told her, rocking her in his strong arms.

"I don't know what to do to make things better," she cried.

He pulled back from Santana and pushed her chin up to look directly into her chocolate-colored eyes, "Start with **not **taking a drink."

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, October 24, 2022<br>9:34 AM**

"Alright, Ms. Fabray…if you'll go ahead and lay back," a young brunette in pink medical scrubs said, patting the back of the exam table.

Quinn Fabray looked first to her right and smiled nervously at Cate who sat in a nearby chair. Cate stood up and reached for Quinn's hand.

The tech pushed aside the cloth of Quinn's examination gown and squirted some bright blue gel on her growing bump. She then used a wand across her mid-section, watching black and white images on a screen.

"Is this your first pregnancy?" the young woman made small talk as she moved the wand back and forth.

Quinn hesitated before answering, looking again at Cate who squeezed her hand. The blonde professor turned back toward the tech and stated, "No. It's my second."

Cate Boyd smiled reassuringly and winked at her girlfriend.

"Well, were you wanting to find out the sex today?" she clarified as she watched the movements of Quinn's baby on the screen, "Because the fetus is cooperating with us today and is in pretty good position."

"You still want to?" Quinn shrugged and smiled at Cate. The couple had already discussed among themselves the pros and cons of finding out the baby's gender versus keeping it a surprise until the birth.

"It's up to you, sweetheart," Cate responded, secretly very eager to find out.

"I don't know. I knew the first time…but there's something kind of magical about not knowing," Quinn surmised.

"I could always write it down for you then you could decide later if you want to look," the girl suggested, sensing Quinn's hesitation, "A lot of parents do that."

Quinn nodded, "Okay…let's do that."

Once the exam was over and they met with Quinn's doctor who confirmed the pregnancy was progressing smoothly, the couple left excitedly with a white envelope in hand.

"Do you have time for an early lunch?" Cate asked Quinn as they walked hand-in-hand down the sidewalk.

"I thought you had a class at noon?" Quinn asked, adjusting the strap of her purse as it hung over her left shoulder.

Cate slowed her pace and stepped out of the flow of pedestrian traffic walking down 7th Avenue in lower Manhattan, pulling Quinn by the hand along with her.

"I would never miss a chance to have lunch with the prettiest girl in all of Manhattan," Cate winked, her clear blue eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun.

As the two of them stood on the busy sidewalk, there was a light autumn breeze that blew the older girl's dark hair off her face, reminding Quinn just how beautiful Cate was too.

Quinn smiled at her girlfriend and responded, "Then how can I turn down that offer."

"You can't," Cate grinned widely, looking at the choices of restaurants around them, seeing a kosher deli, "Deli sandwich?"

"Oh, I can't…remember?" Quinn frowned, patting the protrusion in her mid-section.

"No deli meat…right. I forgot," Cate looked around her again, offering up another option with a point of her right index finger, "Diner?"

Quinn saw a sign in the window of a diner that was up the walkway. It read **Monday's Special: Meatloaf and Mashed Potatoes**. She nodded, answering, "Sure."

"Come on then," Cate took Quinn by the right hand and moved them toward the door, "Cause with alliteration like that, the food's got to be marvelously mouth-watering!"

Quinn laughed out loud at Cate's quirky sense of humor, playfully slapping at the brunette's slender arm, "You're such a dork!"

"Yep, but I'm _your _dork," Cate winked again, opening the door for Quinn to walk through.

Quinn paused in front of the taller girl and kissed her sweetly on the lips, "And aren't I the lucky one."

* * *

><p><strong>2:42 PM<br>**  
>Santana pulled on the handle to open the door of the Caliente Cab Co. Monday afternoon. Her senses were immediately overwhelmed by the loud chatter from the lingering lunch crowd and the pungent smells of alcohol and Tex-Mex food.<p>

It had taken her all of Sunday evening and most of Monday to dry out her system enough to think clearly. Even though she felt like hell, she finally talked herself through getting a shower and putting on her nicest jeans and a freshly-pressed navy polo shirt. After navigating her way down six flights of stairs then walking four blocks up Bleeker Street, she stood inside the restaurant's entry way, pondering the final seconds of her arrival at this crossroad.

She took a steadying breath and pulled back her shoulders with determination, marching with a decided pace into the back dining room where she spotted Frap standing behind the bar.

"Hi," he acknowledged the Latina as soon as he saw her standing there, "Ordering lunch to go?"

"No…actually," Santana responded, looking straight into his aged-face, "I'm here for a job."

In confusion, Frap tilted his head and laughed slightly, "A job? You? _Here_?"

"Yes…I'll wait tables, mix drinks, sing with the mariachi band," she listed with no pretense, "You name it, I'll do it…as long as you pay me for it."

"Whoa…slow down there, missy," Frap held up his hand, "Does your wife know you're here?"

Santana's breath caught in her chest. Being sober and hearing the mention of Brittany…her wife, her _everything_…and not having any clue as to where she was or what she was doing made her stomach twist into a knot.

She swallowed hard to force some moisture back into her dry throat then she responded, "I'm doing this for my wife." 

* * *

><p><strong>4:20 PM<strong>

Dominic Serra rounded the corner along the backstage corridor at the Gershwin Theater Monday afternoon, heading toward a suite of small offices used by some of the _Funny Girl _production staff.

"Oh, Mr. Serra…hello," said a large, dark-skinned man dressed in a security uniform.

The head choreographer for the revival smiled pleasantly at the brute of a man in front of him. With all the time he spent backstage at the theater, Dominic knew Thaddeus Jenkins very well, and the young guard was known endearingly by the cast and crew as a gentle giant.

"Hello, Thaddeus," Dominic returned the greeting, shaking the key chain in his hand to find the key that would open the en suite entry door.

Dominic pushed in the silver key and looked back up at the large man who continued to stand nearby, nervously fidgeting. The professional dancer paused a second before turning the knob on the door, noticing a paper plate in the guard's oversized hand. The plate had half of a deli sandwich on it with a few potato chips, a pickle spear, and a brownie. In the guard's other hand was a bottle of water and a bright red apple.

"Am I interrupting your lunch?" Dominic asked with a pleasant tone, unsure why Thaddeus was not eating at the security desk as he did every other time.

"Uhh…no sir…I was uh…just…," Thaddeus stammered apprehensively, "…yes sir, my lunch…I was about to eat."

Dominic's dark eyes narrowed with suspicion at the mild-mannered guard's unusual behavior. He laughed slightly and shook his head, replying, "Okaaay. Well, enjoy."

He opened the door from the hallway and stepped inside the common area shared by the suite of offices, finding the interior already lit softly by two separate lamps, one on a side table and the other one in a back corner near the receptionist's desk.

As he stepped in further, he also found a familiar blonde sitting on the brown fabric sofa.

"Brittany?" Dominic acknowledged her curiously.

Brittany Pierce closed the novel in her hand and stood up quickly. A strange expression of being _caught _was on her unmade, freckled face.

Dominic chuckled awkwardly then looked from the blonde dancer to the large security guard who stood in the doorway, still holding the plate of food. He observed a knowing look that passed between the two of them.

"What's going on here?" he asked them, very confused.

"Don't get upset with Thad…this is all my doing," Brittany immediately offered to her superior, bending to gather up her sweater and shoes from near the couch.

"What exactly am I supposed to be upset about?" Dominic questioned, shifting his leather briefcase to set it on the floor near his office door, his keys jingling on the key ring that was hooked around his fingers.

Brittany slipped on her shoes and reached for her suitcase and dance bag, quietly contemplating the best response.

Surmising that there was more to this scenario than met the eye, Dominic looked back at the guard and took the plate from him, "Thank you, Thaddeus. I'll take care of Ms. Pierce now."

Thaddeus handed him the bottle of water as well, asking, "Am _I _in trouble, sir?"

The handsome Italian smiled. "No. We'll…uh…," he hesitated as he looked again at Brittany, seeing the same nervous expression on her attractive face, "…we'll just keep this between the three of us."

"Okay. Thank you, Mr. Serra," the guard grinned, adding softly, "Bye, Britt…."

Brittany returned the grin and waved bye to the softhearted young man, "Thanks again, Thad."

Dominic set the sandwich and water on the glass coffee table, but before he could say anything, Brittany picked up her bags and moved toward the door.

"You don't want your sandwich?" he said in an attempt to stop her.

"I should just get out of here…I'm really sorry," she apologized.

"Wait, are you…?" he threw out a quick hand to block her, looking down at her suitcase, "Is everything alright?"

Brittany stopped and started to offer an explanation of the unusual circumstances, ultimately freezing under Dominic's question.

"Brittany?" he prompted, "Are you…staying here?"

The tall blonde bit at her bottom lip then answered, "I swear it was just last night. It won't happen again, I'm really sorry, Dom."

"It's okay…no worries. I promise you are not in trouble," he assured her, motioning toward the couch, "Sit down."

He helped her put her bags back on the floor then led her to sit on the couch.

Handing her the plate, he suggested, "Here, eat."

Brittany settled against the back of the couch, crossing her legs at the knees and balancing the paper plate in her lap.

He could tell the typically muscular blonde looked like she had lost several pounds recently, and he repeated, "Go ahead…eat."

Her hands shook from hunger as she picked up the sandwich and took a bite, chewing intently while Dominic sat in a club chair across from her.

"I don't want to pry into your personal business…but why are you not sleeping at _your _place?" he asked cautiously.

She finished chewing then took a sip of water from the clear bottle. Before she answered, she looked down at the floor to the bags she had shuffled around town for the past two weeks. She felt warm tears collect in her blue eyes, and she fought to hold them back as she looked up again at Dominic, confessing, "Because I don't have a place…_anywhere_…anymore."

Dominic leaned forward in his seat, "Did something happen between you and Santana?"

"We've separated," Brittany stated, her voice soft with an edge of emotion in it, "Two weeks ago."

"Where have you been staying?"

"At first, I was staying at a hotel…then a _cheaper _hotel, but…," she sniffed and looked up at him, "…money sort of ran out."

"Aren't you close with some of the other dancers?"

Brittany shrugged. She still had difficulty admitting how deep her and Santana's troubles were. "I don't want to burden any of them. Besides, they all have roommates and hardly enough space for themselves."

"Well, what about Rachel? She _is _your sister-in-law, correct?" he offered.

"No way! I don't want her knowing anything about what's happened," the blonde was adamant in her denial, not realizing that Grayson knew everything that was going on and had already talk about it with Rachel. "I can handle it myself," she said defiantly.

Dominic grimaced out of compassion for Brittany who he'd come to respect for her immense talent, retorting, "But you're _not_really."

Brittany frowned, "Not what?"

"Handling it," he stated bluntly, "Are you?"

The young girl leaned to set the plate of food on the coffee table. What little appetite she had before now had vanished.

"No, I suppose I'm not," she confirmed in defeat.

Dominic stared quietly at her, contemplating how best he could help, then said, "How long has it been since you had a home-cooked meal?"

Brittany shrugged again.

Standing up, Dominic told her, "Then it's settled. Let me grab my production notes from my desk and you'll come with me."

"To where?" she asked.

"Home. I have a spare room and all the ingredients to make my specialty…pasta pomodoro," he clarified for her, "So…you game?"

Brittany sighed heavily, her troubles feeling suddenly less onerous, and she smiled up at the older man. "Yes, I'd like that."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I'm glad to know everyone was happy to see an update to this story. Thank you again for your support, and thank you for understanding my need to rest my brain.

I know you guys will have more questions about Brittany's whereabouts and her reasons for processing this split from Santana the way she has. Please be patient. I can't give you every bit of info in one scene. More will be revealed.

If you have thoughts or comments you'd like to share with me then please leave a review! Kim


	19. I'll Walk Slow

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (Part 19)**

_Well, love was kind for a time_  
><em>Now just aches, and it makes me blind…<em>

_This mirror holds my eyes too bright_  
><em>And I can't see the others in my life…<em>

_Were we too young? Our heads too strong?_  
><em>To bear the weight of these lover's eyes.<em>  
><em>'Cause I feel numb, beneath your tongue<em>  
><em>Beneath the curse of these lover's eyes…<em>

_But do not ask the price I paid_  
><em>I must live with my quiet rage<em>  
><em>Tame the ghosts in my head<em>  
><em>That run wild and wish me dead<em>  
><em>Should you shake my ash to the wind<em>  
><em>Lord, forget all of my sins<em>  
><em>Oh, let me die where I lie<em>  
><em>'Neath the curse of my lover's eyes…<em>

_Cause there's no drink or drug I've tried_  
><em>To rid the curse of these lover's eyes<em>  
><em>And I feel numb beneath your tongue<em>  
><em>Your strength just makes me feel less strong…<em>

_But do not ask the price I paid_  
><em>I must live with my quiet rage<em>  
><em>Tame the ghosts in my head<em>  
><em>That run wild and wish me dead<em>  
><em>Should you shake my ash to the wind<em>  
><em>Lord, forget all of my sins<em>  
><em>Oh, let me die where I lie<em>  
><em>'Neath the curse of my lover's eyes…<em>

_And I'll walk slow, I'll walk slow_  
><em>Take my hand, help me on my way<em>  
><em>And I'll walk slow, I'll walk slow<em>  
><em>Take my hand, help me on my way…<em>

**(Lover's Eyes ~ Mumford & Sons)**

**Monday, October 24, 2022  
>6:00 PM<br>**

The elevator dinged loudly, announcing its arrival on the tenth floor of a posh apartment building in uptown Manhattan. The sound shook Brittany from her wandering thoughts, and she looked over at the bronzed-skinned, handsome man standing next to her.

Dominic Serra stood about five feet and ten inches, not much taller than Brittany herself. He had thick, dark hair that was starting to turn silver around his temples, yet his face maintained a youthful appearance and his hazel eyes glimmered under the bright lights of the elevator.

The muscles in Dominic's arms flexed as he picked up Brittany's larger suitcase then, smiling, he said to her, "I'm in 10E…it's this way."

He turned to the left and started down the hallway. Brittany looked at the apartment numbers as they walked past each of the ornate, green doors…10H, 10G, 10F.

"Here we go," Dominic said cheerfully as he swiped his plastic key card above the door knob. He pushed open the front door then stepped aside and motioned for Brittany to enter ahead of him.

The blonde dancer walked hesitantly down a small entry hall, hearing the dark, hardwood floor squeak beneath each of her steps. Seeing no signs of anyone else, she was suddenly unsure if being in her choreographer's apartment was a good idea.

"You can just set your bags here for now," Dominic told her, setting down her suitcase in an open area of his living room.

She followed his path inside glass-framed French doors and instantly noticed how pristine Dominic's apartment was kept. Everything was a mixture of white and black…white-painted walls with elaborate wood details, ebony wood floors, modern white sofas, black leather side chairs. Everything was dusted and polished and neatly in its appropriate space.

Brittany felt unkempt as she stood in such a tidy, extravagant interior, and she fidgeted and pulled her gray hoodie tighter around her slim frame.

Using an electronic light switch near the glass doors, Dominic turned on several lights then turned toward Brittany with a large smile, "Hungry?"

Brittany nodded first, trying to push her voice out of her dry throat, "Yes."

"Great!" the older man exclaimed, clasping his hands together enthusiastically, "Let's cook!"

He led his young protégé up the hall toward the back of the apartment and switched on another set of lights, revealing a large, modern kitchen with all the luxury befitting a seasoned chef with its oversized counters and shiny, stainless steel appliances. Dominic had continued the black and white theme in his kitchen with white tile on the floor and walls and black cabinets and marble counter tops.

"This is a beautiful apartment, Dom," Brittany complimented.

"Thank you," he smiled genuinely, tightening the ties of an apron around his trim waist, "My wife chose most of the fixtures. My _ex-wife_, that is."

"Oh?" Brittany was unaware of Dominic's home life, but she had always assumed he was gay.

He took some ground meat and a package of fresh pasta from the large refrigerator as he continued, "Yeah, my marriage broke up two years ago, but I got the apartment…along with the mortgage."

The humor in Dominic's voice was lost on Brittany. All she heard was "marriage" and "broke up", and her thoughts instantly went to Santana, causing her to bite at her lower lip and look down.

"I'm sorry," he said with an empathetic grimace, realizing what he said. Pulling a large boiling pot from the lower cabinet, he stated, "That was insensitive of me."

"No, it's fine," the blonde waived off before she took a deep breath and looked up, forcing a smile, "I'm fine. Everything is fine."

Dominic stopped his activity at the center island's sink and looked toward Brittany. "You use that word a lot lately," he observed.

"What word?" she asked with confusion, wrinkling her nose.

He took a breath before turning the handle to start the water pouring into the large pot then answered, "Fine."

Brittany shrugged, fidgeting with the container of pasta in front of her on the counter.

"Are you really _fine_?"

The attractive blonde had not realized how automatic that response had become for her. She did not even know what her true feelings were currently, because passing off herself as normal to hide the fact she was barely functioning had become her only goal. In Brittany's mind, if she could convince those around her then there was hope she might convince herself.

"Brittany?" Dominic nudged his young dancer from her moment of self-reflection.

When she looked up at him, she had fresh tears in her blue eyes.

"Hey…," he stepped around the center island and put his arms around her, "You know…it's okay to admit you're not fine."

Being physically comforted by her boss felt awkward to Brittany until she realized how much her body was craving that type of solace. Brittany put her arms around Dominic, her closed-off emotions finally escaping as a sob, and she confessed, "I'm not fine."

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday, October 26, 2022<br>7:01 AM**

Cate Boyd sat outside on the rooftop of her West Village apartment early Wednesday morning. She was slouched down in a green, metal garden chair with her long legs stretched out in front of her and propped up on the raised edge of the bricked building. A chill passed through her slim frame as her brown hair blew in the cool, October wind, and she sang casually to herself while she strummed familiar chords...

_Sitting in the morning sun_  
><em>I'll be sitting when the evening comes<em>  
><em>Watching the ships roll in<em>  
><em>And I'll watch 'em roll away again…<em>

_Sitting on the dock of the bay_  
><em>Watching the tide roll away<em>  
><em>I'm just sitting on the dock of the bay<em>  
><em>Wasting time…<em>

_I left my home in Georgia_  
><em>Headed for the 'Frisco bay<em>  
><em>'Cause I had nothing to live for<em>  
><em>And looks like nothing's gonna come my way…<em>

_So I'm just…_

_Sitting on the dock of the bay_  
><em>Watching the tide roll away<em>  
><em>I'm just sitting on the dock of the bay<em>  
><em>Wasting time…<em>

_Looks like nothing's gonna change_  
><em>Everything still remains the same<em>  
><em>I can't do what ten people tell me to do<em>  
><em>So I guess I'll remain the same…<em>

Cate was playing low enough that she heard a sound behind her near the door that led back inside the stairwell, causing her to pause her song and turn her head toward the noise.

Standing there in a thick, flowered house robe, holding a steaming mug of coffee, was Quinn Fabray.

"I thought I might find you up here," she smiled as she spoke, moving toward Cate who lowered her feet to the ground and sat up in her chair.

"Hey, baby," Cate returned the smile and leaned forward to prop her guitar against the wall of the roof's edge. She held out her left arm and motioned Quinn closer, "Come keep me warm."

"You need a jacket this early in the morning," Quinn commented, tugging on Cate's long-sleeved thermal.

"I only need you," Cate assured the blonde as she pulled her gently into her lap and wrapped her long arms around Quinn's pregnant belly, angling her head upward to kiss her, "And your kisses."

"I didn't mean to interrupt you," the younger girl said sweetly, leaning in to kiss Cate again, "I was enjoying your song."

"It was my dad's favorite," Cate responded.

"I miss him," Quinn shifted in Cate's lap, thinking of Stuart Boyd. He was the complete opposite of her own father. He had been one of the most genuinely kind and humorous people Quinn ever met, and all of his best traits were the parts she loved most about his daughter.

"Me too," Cate gave a small smile at the bittersweet memory of her late father.

"Sip?" Quinn offered as a distraction.

Cate tipped the oversized mug to her lips, swallowing a large gulp of the warm coffee. She grimaced slightly which got a chuckle from Quinn.

"Still not used to decaffeinated, huh?" Quinn quipped.

"Never!" Cate laughed, hugging her girlfriend closer and rubbing her chilled face on the fluffy fabric of Quinn's warm robe.

Quinn settled further into Cate's embrace and tilted her head toward the rising sun. "The sunrise is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Whenever I was in San Francisco…after we broke up…," Cate started somewhat hesitantly, squeezing Quinn again, "…I would go out on this pier near my apartment and watch the sun come up. I would sit there all morning sometimes, just listening to the seagulls and to the water as it splashed against the dock, and I would look at the sun and wondering if you were looking up at it too. It made the world seem a little less huge."

Quinn did not respond immediately. The pain of what happened between them was still evident in Cate's voice, and knowing she was the direct cause of that pain brought tears to Quinn's green eyes.

Finally, Quinn swallowed hard and said, "I'm very sorry, sweetheart. I thought I was helping you."

"Helping me what?" Cate's brow furrowed and she looked up at Quinn's face.

Quinn shrugged, "You are so talented, Cate…you deserved a chance to make it big. Not settle down in Smalltown, New England. Not because of me anyway."

"That wasn't what I wanted though," Cate insisted.

Quinn took another sip of her coffee, contemplating before finally revealing, "I thought I was setting you free."

"You pushed me away," Cate responded, adding softly, "Rather than face your demons."

Quinn sat up. "What demons?"

"Commitment," Cate answered.

"You think I have a fear of commitment?" Quinn laughed and shook her head, her blonde ponytail falling over her shoulder, "Why would I?"

"Your parents," Cate speculated, "Your father."

"That's silly, Cate. If I have such a fear of commitment then what's this," Quinn gestured from Cate to herself.

The older girl gave a half-smile, "Commitment."

"Exactly," Quinn smirked in victory.

A silence fell over the couple, and Quinn settled back against Cate's chest. They cuddled close for a minute, looking up at the golden sun that had moved higher in the Eastern sky. A loud garbage truck and several car horns could be heard from the city traffic as the day pushed into full swing on the streets below them.

"It's not marriage though," Cate finally added delicately.

Quinn pondered in silence, thinking about the way that statement came out of Cate's mouth. It had an edge of disappointment and a hint of longing. Perhaps, though, Cate's theory was correct, because as the word 'marriage' moved through Quinn's brain, the concept scared the hell out of her.

The young professor had several images flash in her mind…her father's face when he rejected her, kicking her out of their house on the night he found out she was pregnant at sixteen…her mother as she sobbed and explained to Quinn how she discovered her husband's affair, her betrayal and humiliation visible…Alison's accusations and harassment toward Quinn when none of it was warranted. It was most certainly true that those experiences affected Quinn and how she viewed love and commitment.

She turned her head back toward Cate. Catherine Boyd, the girl who appeared out of nowhere and changed the course of Quinn's entire existence. She was the girl whose love and loyalty never faltered even after all these years and the girl who hardly blinked when Quinn revealed that she was unexpectedly pregnant again and wanting to raise her child this time.

Quinn cast her gaze downward then back up before saying adamantly, "I would marry you."

The declaration took Cate by surprise, not so much the words as how confidently Quinn said them.

"You would?"

Quinn nodded, "I never want to be without you ever again."

Cate smiled broadly. "Then…marry me."

Quinn laughed at the look on Cate's face. She put her hand on the round bump in her mid-section for emphasis, "Now? Like this?"

"Sure, why not?" Cate suggested, "I want to be able to say, 'Nurse, help! My wife's in labor!'"

Quinn laughed harder and playfully slapped at Cate's shoulder, "You are such a goof."

"So is that a yes?"

"Yes," Quinn smiled and nodded, "Yes, I'll marry you."

Cate beamed, "Awesome! Oh wait though…I only get one shot at this so it has to be official."

"Official?" Quinn was confused.

Cate pushed the attractive blonde to a her so she could stand up. She looked around the rooftop for anything she could use to properly propose.

"What are you looking for?" Quinn giggled.

"A ring," Cate answered.

"A ring? On a rooftop?"

"Ok, anything round then," the older girl clarified, still searching the immediate area.

Quinn pulled out the ponytail holder that was in her blonde hair, "Here…will this do?"

The tall brunette smiled and took the round holder from Quinn's hand then dropped to one knee and cleared her throat before speaking.

"Wait…," Cate said again.

Quinn could not stop giggling at the slight madness of the moment. "What now?"

Cate stood again and took the coffee mug from Quinn and set it down then bent again on her knee, holding both of Quinn's hands.

The brunette bit at her lip, her nerves unexpectedly flaring, unsure of what to say. "Your hands are cold."

"Yes, and I really need to pee," Quinn stated with a wink to break the sudden tension.

That comment made Cate laugh which relaxed her, "I love you, Quinn. Since the first time I met you, I knew you were different than anyone else."

"Way back then?" Quinn flushed under the sentiment.

"From the very beginning," Cate confirmed, a warm expression moving across her pretty face, "You were everything that I never knew was missing from my life."

Quinn saw moisture form in the corners of Cate's clear blue eyes, and she instantly felt emotional too. "I love you so much, honey."

"A lifetime with you isn't enough. Ten lifetimes maybe," Cate winked, adding, "With you…with _our_ child, our family."

"I would spend eternity with you, my love," Quinn assured the older girl.

A tear escaped and rolled down Cate's left cheek, and she asked, "Quinn Fabray…will you marry me?"

Without hesitation, Quinn responded, "Absolutely. It would make me the happiest girl in the world."

Cate smiled widely and chuckled as she wrapped the black fabric band around Quinn's left ring finger three times until it was secured. "Is that too tight?"

"It's perfect," Quinn cackled at the oddity of her engagement "ring", "It's one of a kind…just like you."

Cate stood and pulled Quinn as close as her baby bump would allow, kissing her deeply.

"Now _I'm _the happiest girl in the world," Cate assured Quinn.

* * *

><p><strong>5:41 PM<strong>

Brittany was walking down the backstage corridor of the Gershwin theatre late Wednesday afternoon, following the matinée performance of _Funny Girl_, when she heard her name called behind her.

"Brittany!"

The blonde chorus dancer turned to see the show's lead performer moving quickly in her direction.

"Wait up!" Rachel Berry yelled toward the taller girl.

Brittany slowed her gait and told the rest of the chorus, "You guys go on."

Austin Royle smiled and gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder as he passed her and continued toward the dressing rooms.

"Hey, Britt…," Rachel said, slightly out of breath from the show's finale and from her quick trek to catch up with her sister-in-law, "I feel like you've been avoiding me lately."

"Why would I do that?" Brittany dismissed the notion even though internally she knew she had.

Rachel shrugged. "I thought we could go get a quick dinner between shows?"

Brittany bit at her lip and fidgeted with the bottom hem of her costume, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

She acknowledged to herself that Rachel had tried hard to be supportive in the past few weeks. The tiny brunette had insisted Brittany stay with her instead of a rundown hotel when she first moved out, but there was something undefinable inside Brittany which wanted nothing to do with Santana or her family. Brittany only knew she was angry and hurting…and distance was the only way she felt she could work through it.

"I don't know, Rach…I need to…," she trailed off.

"Brittany…please?" Rachel pushed, reaching out to touch the taller girl's hand.

"Okay," Brittany relented with a heavy sigh, adding, "I'll come to your dressing room once I change."

"Great," Rachel beamed, letting Brittany walk off ahead of her, grateful for the small breakthrough.

Once both girls changed out of their costumes, they made their way out to street level and over to a little dive the cast loved that served Thai food. Once they ordered at the counter, they found a small table near the large window.

"How have you been doing?" Rachel asked the girl across from her.

"Good," Brittany auto-responded, turning her head to look out at the pedestrians on the sidewalk that ran along Broadway.

Rachel stared quietly at her, choosing her topics carefully. "Have you picked your costume yet?"

"Costume?" Brittany turned back toward Rachel with a look of confusion.

The petite brunette took the paper wrapper off her straw, putting the clear tube down into her water. "Yeah…for Kurt and Blaine's Halloween party? It's Monday night."

It had not occurred to Brittany that the holiday was next week though she did know about the annual party the guys' threw since she and Santana went every year.

The memory from the year before flashed in Brittany's head, and she smiled unintentionally when she thought of Santana in her tight red devil costume with horns on top of her head and a triton spear she carried around all night, playfully poking Brittany anytime she passed her.

The blonde sighed. "I'm not going," Brittany stated, her voice emotionless.

Rachel moved her fork and knife, lining them up evenly on the napkin underneath, as she thought whether she should broach the topic of Santana. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth to say something when she was interrupted by their waitress who appeared from behind her.

"You have tofu curry?" the young girl asked in broken English.

Brittany pointed toward Rachel.

"I did," the starlet confirmed, raising her hand as if she were answering a question in math class.

"Chicken Pad Thai?" the waitress clarified before setting Brittany's plate in front of her.

"Thank you," the girls said simultaneously with polite smiles.

"You need more water?" the waitress asked.

"Not yet," Rachel answered, seeing that neither she nor Brittany had taken even the first sip of their drinks.

After the waitress walked away, Brittany picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of chicken. Dining out was a luxury for her at this point even if this was a cheap restaurant, and she savored the spicy flavors in her mouth.

Both girls continued to chew in silence until Rachel paused and took a sip of water, deciding to mention, "I overheard a rumor backstage."

"About?" Brittany responded flatly, not one to buy into stage gossip.

Rachel cut a large piece of tofu in half, saying, "About you."

"About me?" Brittany's brow furrowed. Chewing, she asked, "Okay…what was it?"

"That you were seen arriving and leaving with Dominic Serra," Rachel threw out, looking down at her plate before adding, "All week."

Brittany finished her bite and washed it down with water before responding, "Gossip is gossip, Rachel."

"So it's not true?" Rachel sounded somewhat relieved, "You _aren't_ staying at his apartment?"

"Just because it's true doesn't mean it's not gossip," Brittany's voice had an angry edge to it.

"Brittany!" Rachel said louder than she intended. She looked around the small interior, seeing a table of four older cast members in the center of the restaurant and lowering her voice to barely above a whisper, "He is your _boss_."

"He is very kind to me," the tall dancer defended, "And we aren't doing anything wrong…so why shouldn't I accept his help?"

"Because it looks bad," Rachel insisted, "You are married."

"I am _separated_," Brittany emphasized, "Anything about my marriage is between me and Santana…who, by the way, hasn't made _any_ effort to contact me but has drained what little we had in our bank account. I think she's sent a pretty clear message."

"She's trying to turn things around, Britt," Rachel offered, "Grayson said she's not drinking anymore."

Brittany set her fork on the table and looked down at her plate, her appetite leaving her.

Rachel wanted Brittany to hear the latest, telling her, "I spoke to her this morning. She has a job. It's her first week and her feet were aching, but she sounded upbeat. Almost like the old Santana."

Brittany turned her head to look out the window again. _The old Santana_…_is it even possible for Santana to go back to how she used to be_, Brittany wondered…_will I ever be the same again_?

"Brittany?" Rachel prodded, "Santana loves you deeply…you should never doubt that."

The blonde shook her thoughts away and looked back at Rachel, acknowledging, "I don't."

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday, October 29, 2022<strong>

**1:37 PM**

"I need another beer over here, hot stuff?" a Caliente customer hollered across the packed dining room, holding up his empty Corona bottle.

"Just a minute please," Santana called to the older, portly man.

The dark-haired beauty rotated around which caused the drinks on her heavy tray to slosh over the side and run off onto the arm of a woman seated at one of Santana's other tables.

"Hey, watch it!" the woman responded angrily.

"I'm so sorry," Santana told her, "I'll bring you another napkin. Just let me serve these drinks."

"Miss? You said you'd bring us some more chips and salsa…that was over ten minutes ago," a girl said to her from a large table of university students.

"Yes, I know…they're making a fresh batch in the kitchen. I'll get them out to you in like _two_ minutes," Santana explained as she set the last of her drinks on a nearby table.

The frazzled Latina walked over to a side station and picked up several paper napkins then walked them over to the lady who still seemed agitated about the spill. As Santana passed another table of newly-seated patrons, she paused and assured them, "I'll be right back to get your drink order."

When Santana approached the bar to pick up her next delivery of margaritas, she told the bartender, "I need a Corona with a lime, Jason."

"Is that for you?" Renee asked with a chuckle.

"I wish," Santana sighed heavily, leaning into the wood of the bar, "but right now, I could use a nap more than a drink."

"Not as easy as it looks, huh?" the dark-skinned girl winked.

"I definitely have a new appreciation for how hard Brittany worked all those years," Santana said sweetly.

The seasoned waitress had worked several years with Brittany at Caliente and knew just how hectic and surly the weekend brunch crowd could get. "Well, I think you are doing a damn fine job for your first week, honey!"

"Thanks, Renee," Santana smiled back at her, grateful for the encouragement, "I'm off in fifteen minutes…pray for me that I survive until then."

"Fifteen minutes today, but you'll blink and you'll have been here five years like me," Renee teased, setting the final frozen margarita on her tray and walking off, saying over her shoulder, "Hang in there, honey!"

"Santana!" a booming voice said behind the Latina.

She turned to see Frap approaching. "Frap…I'm going. I promise," she assured him, picking up a cocktail and setting it on her tray.

"Well, hold up a sec," the older man instructed, "You and I have something to discuss."

"Is it the tray of food I dropped yesterday?" Santana grimaced. She had hoped her boss would not hear about that incident. "I'm really sorry…I cleaned it up myself. I'll replace the plates if I need to."

"Santana…take a breath," her boss patted her on the arm, "Shit happens, it's okay."

The brunette let out a long flow of air, hearing a customer at one of her tables calling, "Miss, can we get some service over here?"

"Just a second," Santana said loudly.

"Listen, darlin'…you're as out of place here as a bastard child at a family reunion," he said with a straight face, slipping a white envelope into the pocket of her black apron which was tied around her slender waist.

"What's that?"

"Your pay…in cash," Frap answered, "For the next few weeks, plus extra to cover tips."

"Are you firing me, Frap?" Santana sounded panicked.

"Noooo, darlin'. I want to help you…the best way I know how," he clarified, "Call your agent. Use your time next week to go on some auditions."

"Frap…." Santana shook her head, at a loss for words.

"Don't think…just take it and go. We both know you belong on stage, not mopping up refried beans."

Santana put both arms around the gruff old Southerner, hugging him tightly then she kissed his cheek.

"Alright, alright. Now go…before you set my restaurant on fire or something," he waived her off.

"Thank you so much, Frap," the young Latina told him, smiling widely and untying her apron.

"Hey, hot stuff! My beer?" the same guy yelled at her again.

Incited by the old guy's crassness, Santana picked up the clear glass bottle of Corona beer and walked it over to him, slamming it hard onto the table, articulating slowly and harshly, "Here is your beer, sir! And if you call me 'hot stuff' one more time…I will stick it so far up your ass that you will choke on the lime."

With that, the beautiful brunette turned and walked out of Caliente, waving excitedly to Renee as she passed her.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Life has been extra crazy lately, so thank you all for your continued patience. I hope you enjoyed this update. I'm requesting that you please take a moment to let me know what you thought, because your feedback is what motivates and encourages me to do the next chapter.

Some of y'all have sent me private messages here or on tumblr, sharing your personal situations and how this story has affected you. I am moved by each of you. You are all so very brave to face your personal obstacles with strength you might not have realized you had.

I also want to take this opportunity to thank my girlfriend, Shay, for her endless support. She is my constant inspiration, my muse, and I adore her and love her with everything I have. Thank you, sweetheart!


	20. Maybe I Will Be Ok

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 20)**

_I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok_

_I just want to be ok today,_

_I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok_

_I just want to be ok today…_

_I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today_

_I just want to feel something today,_

_I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today_

_I just want to feel something today…_

_Open me up and you will see_

_I'm a gallery of broken hearts_

_I'm beyond repair, let me be,_

_And give me back my broken parts…_

_I just want to know today, know today, know today_

_I just want to know something today,_

_I just want to know today, know today, know today_

_Know that maybe I will be ok..._

_Open me up and you will see_

_I'm a gallery of broken hearts_

_I'm beyond repair, let me be,_

_And give me back my broken parts…_

_Just give me back my pieces_

_Just give them back to me please_

_Just give me back my pieces,_

_And let me hold my broken parts…_

_I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok_

_I just want to be ok today,_

_I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok_

_I just want to be ok today…_

_I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today_

_I just want to feel something today_

_I just want to know today, know today, know today_

_Know that maybe I will be ok…._

(**Be OK ~ Ingrid Michaelson**)

**Monday, October 31, 2022  
>9:45 AM<strong>

Brittany Pierce felt a hand brush softly down the side of her face. She involuntarily yawned as her blue eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to adjust to the sunlit bedroom.

She smiled when the same hand continued down the length of her arm, lovingly lingering along the exposed skin under her short sleeve, caressing gently.

The blonde heard a familiar voice say, "Good morning, Britt. I made breakfast."

She took a deep breath, smelling a mixture of coffee and pancakes in the air. Her stomach rumbled, and when she swallowed, she could nearly taste maple syrup, asking, "Do I smell…bacon too?"

"Crispy, just how you like it," the voice purred with satisfaction.

Brittany turned further into another caress down her cheek, savoring the familiar touch. "I'm so hungry…especially after last night," the blonde dancer winked playfully as a memory of sex passed through her.

There was a small, knowing chuckle from the person sitting on the edge of the bed, "I bet so. Let me go make you a plate. Meet me in the kitchen?"

Brittany gave a sleepy nod and smiled again. Her smile was broader this time when she felt a solid kiss on her lips as the bed moved under her from the weight of the person standing to leave the room.

"Hey," Brittany called out, not ready for the intimacy to come to an end.

"Yeah?" the person turned around, a strand of dark hair falling enough to cover one eye.

The dark hair was as recognizable to Brittany as the dark brown eye it covered, causing a tug at her heart and a warm tear to appear. She swallowed before saying, "I love you, Santana."

"I love you too," Santana said sweetly before disappearing beyond the doorway.

A loud buzzing broke through Brittany's warm sensation, and she reached out an automatic hand to shut off her alarm. She rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes widely, seeing nothing but daylight and a blank, white ceiling.

Brittany let out a long breath and pulled the bed covers up over her, the room suddenly very cold. As she lay there, she could smell coffee and breakfast in the air, and her stomach rumbled.

Her dream had been so vivid, similar to the dozens of other dreams she had recently of her wife. This time was stronger though…it was as if Santana had truly been sitting next to her, touching her, kissing her. Brittany could still feel the Latina's presence in the room.

The blonde sat up, tears forming, and she bit at her bottom lip to keep them from escaping. She reached for her cell phone on the bedside table, cradling the phone in her palm and contemplating whether she should make a call to her wife.

"Santana," Brittany said aloud to nobody. She sighed and set the phone back on the nightstand.

After a quick trip to the bathroom which was located across from the guest room, Brittany walked the length of the hallway, following the pungent smells around the corner and into the spacious kitchen where she found Dominic Serra pouring a cup of coffee.

"Good morning," Brittany said softly, her arms wrapped around her torso in an attempt to privately comfort herself.

"Ahh, there you are!" Dominic responded cheerfully, setting the black coffee mug onto a tray, "I was just about to bring your breakfast to you."

"Dom, stop. You've done too much for me already," Brittany stated shyly, never a fan of doting...unless it was from Santana. She sat on one of the three bar stools and looked over at the tray, "Are those pumpkin pancakes?"

"Jack-O-Lanterns to be precise," the handsome Italian laughed, "Happy Halloween!"

Brittany seemed suspended in thought then said, "Oh right…Happy Halloween to you."

"Do you have your costume picked out?" he made conversation as he walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of cream for the coffee.

"What?" Brittany asked, confused.

"You mentioned going to a friend's costume party tonight," Dominic recalled.

"I said I _may_ go to a friend's party," Brittany dropped a sugar cube into her coffee then poured a small amount of creamer, stirring while responding, "I don't think I'm going now."

"Are you afraid Santana will be there?" the choreographer asked with a hint of hesitation, remembering that Brittany mentioned it was a party the couple attended together each year.

_Santana_. The mention of her wife's name made the blonde shiver again.

"No," Brittany paused, "No, she won't be there." She had not heard any confirmation from Rachel, but she knew Santana well enough to know she would not be there. Not alone, and definitely not after what happened with Quinn at the dinner party.

Dominic pulled a plate out of his warming drawer, uncovering it to reveal a pile of crispy bacon, asking, "One slice or two?"

"Mmmm, I love bacon," Brittany smiled.

It was the first genuine smile the older choreographer could remember seeing on the young dancer's face in the entire time she had been staying with him. "So three slices?" he joked, adding a third slice to her breakfast plate and setting it in front of her.

She picked up a thick slice and took a bite. "Yum. This was very sweet of you, Dom," she said with an even bigger smile.

"You know, Brittany…you are even more beautiful when you smile," he stated candidly, "Your whole face lights up."

Brittany blushed at the compliment, and she lifted her mug to her mouth to shield herself, telling him, "Thank you."

Dominic Serra could not keep himself from staring at the attractive blonde in front of him, returning the smile, he added, "I wish you'd smile more often."

* * *

><p><strong>10:27 AM<strong>

Santana Lopez paused momentarily to look up at the street sign before hurrying across a busy intersection.

"Sorry," she said automatically when she squeezed between two pedestrians in front of her, switching her cell phone from her right hand to her left.

"It's 10:29. You should be walking in the building right now," her talent agent told her with exasperation.

"Adrian…relax ," she replied, sounding slightly out of breath, "I'm only half a block away."

"You're late!" he raised his voice.

"Well, maybe next time, you should give me more than forty-five minutes notice," she reminded.

"The other girl didn't show up. That's the _only_ reason you're getting this audition," Adrian Locke stated bluntly.

"The only reason?" Santana frowned, pulling open the heavy door that led inside a run-down theatre in lower Manhattan.

Santana stopped long enough to show the name **Ted Browning** she had written on a piece of white paper to a uniformed security guard who stood in the theatre's lobby. He pointed toward a nearby elevator and told her, "Third floor, take a right, knock on the door at the end of the hallway."

The beautiful brunette moved quickly toward the ornate elevator which had seen its better days decades ago then pushed on the top button. The elevator opened immediately.

"Listen, I told them you're Latina, you can carry a tune, and you'd be there by 10:30. That's why they agreed to see you."

Santana retorted as she stepped inside the elevator, "Geez, Adrian, thanks for advocating on my behalf. I'll be sure to send you a fruitcake this Christmas."

"I'm Jewish," he replied flatly.

"Yeah well…shalom," Santana rolled her eyes as the elevator dinged its arrival on the upper floor, "Ok, gotta go."

"Oh, Santana!" Adrian yelled to catch her before she could hang up.

"Yeah?" the Latina responded, pausing in front of the last door.

"If they ask…," he instructed, "…you _can_ juggle."

Santana grimaced, replying, "…but I can't."

Without hesitation, Adrian insisted, "You'll learn."

Santana turned off her phone and slid it down inside her over-sized shoulder bag. She straightened her pants and her jacket and took a deep breath before knocking on the closed wooden door.

A heavyset man opened it quickly. He was dressed in navy slacks, a striped dress shirt, and a necktie that was an awful color of pea green and tied so unevenly that the back section hung much lower than the front.

"You Adrian's girl?" he asked gruffly, wiping cream cheese from the corner of his mouth with a cloth handkerchief.

"Yes. Santana Lopez-Pierce," the young girl stated, trying to sound confident.

"Yeah yeah, come in," he said, turning and walking back to the table where an older man with thinning, white hair sat in a metal folding chair next to a middle-aged woman who wore enough makeup to cover the faces of an entire chorus line.

Santana stepped out of the doorway and inside the room, setting down her bag and taking off her jacket. She then moved toward the table and handed them a headshot, saying, "Hi…thank you very much for seeing me today."

"Do you have something prepared?" the woman asked, turning the picture over and skimming Santana's resume.

"Do you want me to sing something?" the Latina asked, looking around the room but not seeing a piano, adding, "Or would you prefer a monologue?"

"We want to see you dance," the older man prompted.

"Dance?" Santana swallowed hard. She did not typically audition for chorus work, because she was not a trained dancer like Brittany.

"Yeah, dance," the overweight man repeated, chewing a large bite of bagel, crumbs falling from his mouth as he spoke, "Didn't Adrian tell you that?"

"No. He didn't tell me much about your production at all," Santana confessed.

The Latina took a deep breath, her nerves threatening to take over. _Work is work, Lopez_…she told herself, _and this sure beats waiting tables at Caliente_. "But I can dance if that's what you want," she assured the aged trio.

"Do you have music?" the larger man asked in the same gruff tone.

"Not with me," she answered, accustomed to auditions with an accompanist in the room.

Santana's gaze followed the older man as he reached to a side table and pushed play on an old-style Boombox. She had not seen one like it since she was in the third grade.

As the portable stereo started playing, it sounded like it had not been used since around the time she was in the third grade, taking a minute for the music to become audible.

The room finally filled with a slower tune that sounded way less chorus line and much more burlesque.

"Umm…exactly what sort of dance are you looking for?" she asked, unconsciously grimacing.

"Just do…you know, whatever feels right," the older man waived his hand toward her.

"Like…freestyle?" she tried to clarify.

The response from the three seated at the table was silence as they turned their heads toward each other with confused looks on their faces.

The heavyset man cleared his throat and expounded, "Like…sexy."

"Sexy?" Santana's nose wrinkled.

"Yes, sexy," the older man emphasized.

"Okay. Well…," Santana looked around the room again. The entire situation suddenly felt very creepy, "…it might help to know more about the character."

"Character?" the woman repeated, "Just be you, sweetheart…we want to see your natural instincts."

The old man interrupted, adding matter-of-factly, "…but don't take too long to cut to the chase. All the audience really wants is tits."

* * *

><p><strong>10:58 AM<strong>

"Santana, stop screaming!" Adrian Locke shouted into his desk phone, holding it out and away from his ear, yelling into the mouth-piece, "…or at least speak English."

The Latina kept up her brisk stride as she turned the corner to continue down a busy side street. She took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself, restating in English but with the same amount of abhorrence, "They wanted me to do a striptease, Adrian! To strip. Naked!"

"What?" Adrian was looking back through the notes he jotted down from his earlier conversation with the show's producer, Ted Browning, "They never mentioned nudity this morning."

"What exactly did they mention, Adrian? Because, I couldn't really see much point to this little _production_ of theirs."

"Ted described it as…," he read off his notepad, "…a reinterpretation of an old-style variety show. He called it '_Cabaret_ meets _Moulin Rouge_'."

"Uhh, your pal Ted may want to take a jaunt downtown and check on his director's vision, because it was more like _The Producers_ meets _Showgirls_," Santana ran her fingers through the top of her dark hair as she yelled at her longtime agent, shivering when her mind flashed back to the audition room.

She did not even take a breath before she continued. "In fact, I think I'd rather star in _Springtime for Hitler_ at this point," she referenced the iconic flop manufactured by the main characters in the musical _The Producers_, "Maybe even juggle while riding one of those little unicycles, yeah?"

"I know you're angry, Santana," Adrian tried to calm her, "but just think, this will make a funny dinner party story when you're old and famous."

"They actually used the word 'tits', Adrian!"

Adrian Locke burst into laughter.

"It's not funny," Santana bellowed.

"It is _slightly_ funny…no?" his laughter weakened, but he still had a huge grin on his face.

"I'm not laughing. I was the lead in a critically-acclaimed off-Broadway musical, for fuck's sake!" the Latina beauty reminded her agent, challenging him, "Find me some quality auditions, Adrian!"

Santana Lopez hung up her cell phone without waiting for Adrian's response then stepped down a staircase toward the subway tunnel.

* * *

><p><strong>8:26 PM<strong>

Quinn Fabray pulled the arm of the tall, yellow chicken behind her, "Come on, honey."

"I've changed my mind," Cate Boyd frowned, fidgeting with the fake fur that kept getting stuck in her mouth, "I can't go in there looking like this."  
>"You look wonderful!" Quinn snickered under her breath.<p>

"No, _you_ look wonderful," Cate responded, "You get to be Little Bo Peep and look all adorable and charming."

"Technically, I'm Mary…not Bo Peep," the pregnant blonde corrected the taller girl.

"Point is, you look cute. I look like…a giant marshmallow peep!" Cate retorted with exasperation.

"Well…true," Quinn coughed on her laughter, "but, it's really not my fault that the costume shop reserved the chicken instead of the lamb…AND you know I checked all over town for a suitable replacement."

"This doesn't even make sense now, Quinn. Mary had a little _lamb_," Cate crossed her arms and scowled, "not a fucking chicken."

The beautiful blonde stared across the hallway at the love of her life and watched while Cate Boyd leaned against the wall and looked down at her black, high-top converse sneakers.

"Since when do chickens wear high-tops?" Quinn smiled and shook her head.

That made Cate giggle slightly, and she said, "Since they started masquerading as lambs?"

Quinn put her arms around Cate and stretched to kiss the taller girl's cheek, "I love you for even putting on that ridiculous costume, and if you want to take it off right this second then I totally understand."

Cate rolled her eyes and smirked. It was hard for the older girl to say no to Quinn Fabray when she looked up at her with those green eyes of hers and that million-dollar smile. "I'm over it now, I guess. I just wanted the validation."

"Well, I tell you what, my love...you stay at the party for one hour," Quinn squeezed the brunette tighter and kissed her a few more times, wherever she could find skin that was not covered by yellow fur, telling Cate in her sexiest voice, "and I'll take you home and _validate_ you the rest of the night."

That suggestive comment made Cate grin ear to ear. "Promise?"

"Promise," Quinn confirmed.

Cate moved to the front door and knocked loudly, leaning over to kiss Quinn just as the door opened.

"Happy Hallo-," Kurt stopped mid-greeting, "Oh my. You two look sooo…."

"Festive!" Blaine completed the sentence before his husband could insult the duo, "Happy Halloween. Come on in."

"Thanks," Cate grumbled as she moved past the hosts who were dressed in high-end costumes.

"You both look fabulous as always. Blaine, you make a terrific Zorro," Quinn complimented, tilting her head so Blaine then Kurt could greet her with a kiss on the cheek, "And Kurt…who are you exactly?"

Kurt paused, clearly frustrated, "I am aghast that not one person realizes I am Jay Gatsby."

"The Great Gatsby, of course," Quinn forced recognition with a big smile.

"Yeah ok, I get it. Forget trying to be creative! Next year I'll just wear fangs and some fake blood and go as The Vampire Lestat," Kurt stomped off dramtically.

Quinn looked at Blaine, both breaking into laughter. Kurt Hummel would never be mainstream in his entire life.

"I'm glad you guys could come," the short brunette told Quinn.

"Me too," Quinn responded, holding her pregnant stomach and joking further, "I wasn't sure I'd find a costume to fit that wasn't a giant whale."

"It's adorable. Bo Peep?" Blaine presumed by her blonde curls, white apron, and shepherd's crook.

"Mary," Quinn shrugged.

"Ahhh, yes," Blaine nodded, pausing in confusion, motioning toward the living room where Cate stood talking to Rachel and Grayson, "But what's with the chicken?"

"Long story," she shook her head and walked off toward the group.

* * *

><p><strong>9:14 PM<strong>

Kurt made his way through the growing crowd of party-goers who danced about to a club-mix of Thriller, waving at some of them as he passed and stopping to offer hors devours from a tray to others.

When he circled near the entrance of his apartment, he heard a knock on the door, answering it with a booming, "Happy Halloween!"

His enthusiasm startled the brunette standing there in a form-fitted black cat suit, causing her to visibly jump.

"Santana!" Kurt was equally surprised, and he pulled her inside with his free hand, hugging her.

"Hi," she beamed at the warm reception, "I hope it's ok that I came."

"It's great," he assured her, pulling her further into the apartment, "Come say hello to everyone."

The dark beauty waved as she walked up to her sister, "Hey there, Rach."

"Oh my god…you actually showed up!" Rachel exclaimed, hugging her tightly, "You look amazing."

"Hey, Grayson," Santana hugged the handsome blond, still very grateful to him for his watchful eye when she was at her worst.

"We're so glad to see you, Santana," Grayson told his neighbor.

The Latina seemed to relax a bit after a quick hug from Blaine and a few others she recognized, feeling like she made the right decision to step back out into the real world.

Rachel took a sip of her drink, watching her sister look around the room, craning her neck to check throughout the crowd of people. She reached up and took Santana by the hand, informing her, "She didn't come tonight, sweetheart."

Santana was unaware her search for Brittany was so obvious, but her disappointment was definitely evident as soon as Rachel confirmed the blonde's absence. "Oh…ok," Santana mumbled.

"I tried, I really did," Rachel frowned, heartbroken for the couple, willing to do anything to assist them in repairing their relationship. The petite brunette squeezed her sister's hand, suggesting, "Just give her time, Santana. She'll come around. I just know it."

"Yeah," Santana nodded halfheartedly, "I hope so."

Blaine passed the small group with a freshly-opened bottle of wine, asking, "Refill?"

"Yes, please," Grayson responded quickly, lowering his empty wine glass.

"Rachel?" Blaine turned to the Broadway starlet.

"I was drinking one of Kurt's blood orange martinis," she pointed to the nearby wet bar in the corner of the living room.

Blaine took her martini glass, saying, "He just made a fresh batch." Before he walked away, he turned to the taller brunette, "Santana – martini?"

"Umm…none for me," she answered confidently, adding, "I'm sticking with water these days."

Rachel smiled up at Grayson, relieved to hear that affirmation directly from Santana's mouth.

"Sounds good," Blaine winked, "There are some bottles of water in the kitchen. Help yourself."

Santana snaked her way around several people, heading toward the kitchen. She had her head in the refrigerator when she was bumped from behind, hearing someone say, "Oh, I'm so sorry."

"That's ok," she said as she stood up, coming face to face with her best friend, Quinn Fabray.

"Santana," Quinn said with a hint of shock, "I didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"Didn't expect to…or hoped you wouldn't?" the Latina attempted a joke.

Quinn did not answer immediately, examining the face of her old friend. It never ceased to amaze Quinn how gorgeous Santana Lopez was and how youthful she continued to look even though they were all quickly approaching thirty. She was especially pleased tonight to see how clear-eyed the Latina appeared.

"I've missed you, Santana," Quinn finally responded, "You look incredible tonight."

"Thank you, Quinn," the brunette grinned, completely relieved, "I've missed you too. And…I'm _very_ sorry for my previous behavior."

"I know," Quinn returned the smile, leaning in to hug her.

Santana noted the space had widened between the best friends, and she looked down at Quinn's belly. "You are getting bigger," she said with genuine excitement.

"Yep…and I feel even bigger than this," the attractive blonde joked with her hands propped on her protruding mid-section.

"Is that an engagement ring?" Santana asked, her eye catching the small glimmer of a diamond on Quinn's left ring finger.

Quinn held up her hand for Santana to see. "It is. I'm getting married…finally," she confirmed animatedly, turning to point to the girl in the furry, yellow costume who was sitting in a chair, playing a game on her phone, "To that chicken over there!"

Both girls hugged again and laughed.

"Congratulations, Quinn," Santana said, "I knew you two were meant to be together forever."

"Well, I owe _you_ a lifetime of gratitude, my friend." Quinn kissed Santana's cheek, "That's for playing matchmaker…twice."

"Fate always finds a way…right?" Santana responded philosophically, her statement meant as a reminder to herself as much as to Quinn.

"Always," Quinn gave a supportive squeeze to Santana's elbow before walking away.

Santana took a deep breath and a sip of her water, trying to inwardly soothe herself.

She turned her head to see Rachel and Grayson dressed in their coordinating, 1920s mobster and flapper girl costumes, cuddling together as they slow-danced. She then watched Quinn walk over and sit down in Cate's lap, taking her phone from her, kissing her sweetly and whispering something in her ear that made the older girl smirk. Even Kurt and Blaine had their arms around each other as they laughed and chatted with their friends which only highlighted the void in the Latina's life.

All she wanted was a chance…one chance to show Brittany she was sorry and wanted to start fresh to save their marriage.

Suddenly feeling completely alone, Santana pushed quietly through the crowd and out the front door.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Yes, I am writing an update! Promise :)


	21. Put Us Back Together

**Recap to ease everyone back into this story:**

Since so much time has passed, here's what happened thus far on KMWTLI…

Santana and Brittany were happily married and hesitantly optimistic about trying one last time for a baby before they were completely drained of money and hope. Santana was even willing to give up her stage career in a successful off-Broadway musical to ease the strain on her body, praying it would give her the last needed edge to get pregnant.

Brittany was waiting tables but caught a break when Rachel was cast as the lead in Funny Girl and recommended her as a chorus dancer. In turn, the girls introduced Rachel to their downstairs neighbor, Grayson Knox, and the two formed an instant connection and started dating.

Quinn was highly praised as a drama professor at Yale University in Connecticut though melancholy over a string of bad relationships. She was longing for her lost love Cate Boyd, but she had not heard anything about Cate in years.

The girls were thrilled when they found out the fertility treatments worked and Santana was pregnant. Funny Girl opened and was an instant success, keeping Rachel and Brittany very busy.

Quinn bumped into Puck at the premiere party, got extremely drunk, and slept with him for comfort. The next morning, Quinn reminded him she was gay and sex between them should never have happened so Puck stormed out. Then, because Quinn has the worst luck ever, she found out she was pregnant.

Santana randomly found Cate in a West Village bakery, slipped Quinn's number to her, and hoped Cupid would do the rest. It worked. Cate contacted Quinn, and they ended up rekindling their love affair. Cate wasn't even deterred when Quinn revealed she was pregnant with Puck's baby…again. Quinn took a coveted theatre job and moved to Manhattan, and now she and Cate are engaged and planning their wedding.

Tragically, Santana had a miscarriage and started shutting out everyone and everything, including Brittany. Things worsened when Santana started drinking more and more. She took out her grief and depression on Brittany until she drove Brittany away.

Brittany has stayed with the show's choreographer, Dominic Serra, in his fancy, uptown apartment. Dominic has been extremely kind and generous to Brittany, allowing her the space she desperately needed from Santana and the loss of their baby.

Grayson watched over Santana and ultimately helped her get sober and get her life out of the gutter, even stopping her from having a one night stand with a girl she drunkenly brought back to the apartment.

After that, Santana relied on Brittany's old boss, Frap, to get a job waitressing at his restaurant. She tried to learn the art of waiting tables, but she was horrible at it. Frap has a great fondness for Brittany and wanted to help Santana the best way he knew how, so he gave her an envelope of cash and sent her home to focus on her show business aspirations.

Santana has struggled with auditions recently. One was an embarrassing spectacle where she was asked to strip for the producers. She walked out in disgust.

In the chapter posted last time, Kurt and Blaine hosted their annual Halloween party. Everyone attended, even Santana. When she crossed paths with Quinn, it gave the best friends a chance to mend hurtful things Santana said about Quinn's unexpected pregnancy. All seemed well, except that Brittany was a no-show. Santana left the party brokenhearted.

And that's what you missed on…Keep Me Where the Light Is!

* * *

><p><strong>Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 21)<strong>

_Woke up, such a bad dream_

_I stayed, you were leaving_

_With my heart, you were stealing_

_I don't care, I'd let you take it…_

_Showed up, like a good girl_

_I fell, for your fable_

_But I'm no Cinderella_

_I don't care, I'd let you take it…_

_Put us back together_

_You said, it's forever_

_But I know, you're pretending_

_I don't care, I'd let you take it_

_All again..._

_And I just wanna love you_

_Don't wanna lose me_

_Don't wanna lose you, whoa oh_

_If it gets harder_

_Then I don't wanna break all alone_

_I wanna break in your…_

_I just wanna love you_

_Don't wanna lose me_

_Don't wanna lose you, whoa oh_

_If it gets harder_

_Then I don't wanna break all alone_

_I wanna break in your…_

_Whoa oh oh, whoa oh oh_

_(Don't wanna break in your)_

_And if it gets harder_

_Then I don't wanna break all alone_

_I wanna break in your arms._

_Sometimes, when I'm sleeping_

_I still, feel you breathing_

_You stole, all my good dreams_

_I don't care, I'd let you take it…_

_Come on, listen closely_

_To the sound, that our love made_

_If you go, I would follow_

_I don't care, I'd let you take it,_

_All again, mmmm…_

_I just wanna love you_

_Don't wanna lose me_

_Don't wanna lose you, whoa oh_

_If it gets harder_

_Then I don't wanna break all alone_

_I wanna break in your…_

_I just wanna love you_

_Don't wanna lose me_

_Don't wanna lose you, whoa oh_

_If it gets harder_

_Then I don't wanna break all alone_

_I wanna break in your arms…._

(**I Don't Wanna Break ~ Christina Perri**)

**Tuesday, November 8, 2022**

**2:18 PM**

_Honk._

Santana Lopez stopped mid-crosswalk and slammed her palm down on the hood of a yellow taxi cab which halted inches from her.

"Excuse you!" she shouted at the cab's driver.

The man's heavily accented voice could be heard out its window. The young Latina was unsure what he said, but there was little doubt of his tone.

Santana took a step toward the other side of the intersection, but when the cab eased forward another inch, it lightly grazed the top part of her brown, knee-high boot.

"HEY!" she screamed back at him, looking down at the small scuff, "This is Italian leather!"

The cabbie shrugged then rolled forward through his left turn.

"Asshole," Santana said over her shoulder as she stepped up on the curb and continued down Greenwich Street in the West Village.

She checked the time on her watch. _2:21 PM_. She quickened her pace as she looked again at the ornate timepiece. It had been a gift from Brittany on Santana's twenty-fifth birthday, meant as a playful reminder to help Santana be on time more often.

Santana snickered to herself at the fact she was already six minutes late for coffee with Cate, but then her whole face beamed, knowing the engraving on the back read _You'll always be worth the wait – B_.

She pushed away the happy memory. Memories were too hard for her now. She took a deep breath and crossed another intersection, making sure she looked first this time. Safely across, she turned right onto Charles Street.

Once inside MOJO Coffee, Santana searched the crowd of faces for Cate Boyd.

Not seeing her, the beautiful brunette approached the counter and ordered, "Large Cortado, in-house please."

"Six dollars," the cashier told her.

Santana paid and stepped aside to wait for one of the few wooden tables to clear. She looked at her watch again. _2:27 PM_. _Come on, Cate_, she thought as she groaned internally. Someone else being late was definitely worse to Santana than being late herself.

She admired some of the featured photography on the wall, focusing for several seconds on one particular photograph.

"That was taken just a few steps from here," a man said from a nearby table.

She turned her head toward his voice.

"The colors are breathtaking," Santana told him, captivated by the vivid autumn leaves.

"That's what I love about lower Manhattan. You may be walking down a busy boulevard then you turn down any side street…to be greeted by a burst of beauty."

The man smiled at her the way a man smiles at any beautiful woman. Santana blushed in response but hid it well by turning her head back toward the photograph.

"You can sit while you wait for your friend," the man pointed toward the empty chair across from him.

"How do you know I'm waiting for someone?" Santana asked dismissively over her shoulder.

"You ordered in-house," he paused, "…and I saw you check your watch."

She turned toward him again, finding a smug expression hugging his thin lips.

"Hmm…is this what you do?" she asked.

"Do? What exactly?"

"Sit here all afternoon and stalk coffee orders," she elaborated.

"Actually, that is what I do," the man pointed up at the photographs.

"You are a photographer?"

"I'm _that_ photographer," he smiled proudly.

Santana's eyes scanned the wall, stopping on a headshot of a man with the same ruggedly handsome face as the man in front of her. The name above the framed bio read **Miller Baskin**.

The Latina smiled awkwardly.

"Miller Baskin," the man nodded, "Please sit."

Seeing no other available chairs, Santana sat just as the waitress put her coffee in front of her.

"Thank you," Santana replied.

The girl also set a white, porcelain plate on the table, saying to Miller, "Fresh out of the oven."

The plate had a large cookie on it, and Miller grinned charmingly, "Thanks, Liv."

"No problem," she returned the smile, clearly smitten with the older man.

"Have you ever tried a Maple Bacon Cookie?"

"No," Santana chuckled at the idea of bacon in a cookie.

"Never?" he said with feigned shock in his voice.

"Never," she confirmed.

"But…it's bacon. Bacon in a cookie. It's nothing short of genius," he joked, breaking apart the warm pastry and taking a bite, "Here…take half."

Santana smiled pleasantly but waved him off.

"I insist," he tried again.

"I'm fine," she laughed, appreciating his silliness.

"You sure? Last chance," he winked at her before eating the remaining half.

Santana took a sip of her coffee, she could see why Cate bragged about it.

"So you know my name," Miller stated, "Do I get to know yours?"

"Santana," she said then took another sip.

He watched her a moment, the shine in her long dark hair, the ambiguity in her dark eyes, the exactness with which she moved. He couldn't read her the way he read other women, and he liked that.

"Have you ever been photographed, Santana?"

"Many times," she replied then offered, as if an explanation was necessary, "I'm an actress."

"Of course you are," he validated, "A very beautiful one."

She blushed again and took another sip.

"And a modest one," he added.

"I'm married," she said bluntly. She instinctively moved her right hand to twist the wedding ring she'd always worn on her left ring finger, but then she remembered it wasn't there.

Miller laughed audaciously, "I can't admire you professionally?"

Santana shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Perhaps she misjudged his intentions, and now she felt self-conscious. She looked quickly over her shoulder for Cate's much-needed arrival. Not seeing her friend, she settled herself with a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she told him.

"Don't be. I'm always watching for an interesting subject," he said.

"And you find _me_ interesting?" she asked with a skeptical tone.

"Very," he assured her, asking delicately, "Are you currently working?"

"Currently _looking_ actually," she answered.

He noticed that Santana bit at her bottom lip.

"If it's not too presumptuous of me…I'm starting a new project next week that you'd be perfect for. Are you available?"

Santana's eyes narrowed. _This seems too good to be true_, she told herself.

"You seem suspicious," Miller inferred from her body language.

"Wouldn't you be?" she chuckled slightly.

"Well…I know me," he retorted with another wink, "And…I think I'm pretty cool."

That got a bigger laugh from the attractive brunette. "Oh you are, are you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he reached to the floor for his leather messenger bag, "but I tell you what…I'll leave you to look over my work that's here at the shop." He slid his business card across the table, pushing it under the plate that held her coffee cup. "Think about it, and if you decide you're interested in more details, give me a call."

Santana looked down at the small, black card, but she didn't reach for it. "I'll think about it."

Miller smiled and nodded, "Great."

He picked up his bag and threw a five dollar bill on the table.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Santana."

* * *

><p>Santana Lopez watched the door open and close as Miller Baskin walked out and Cate Boyd walked inside MOJO Coffee.<p>

The older brunette gazed the interior then smiled upon locating Santana at a table in the back corner.

Santana waived Cate over then motioned for the waitress, "I'll take a refill please."

"No problem," the girl replied and waited for Cate to sit before asking, "What can I get you?"

"House brew, black…thanks," Cate told her, taking off her leather jacket and draping it around the back of her metal seat. She didn't skip a beat, telling Santana, "I'm sooo sorry. My interview ran longer than I anticipated."

"No worries," the Latina assured her, "That's good though, right?"

"Yeah, seems so…I hope anyway," Cate chuckled, "They had me meet with three separate people."

"That is good!" Santana was excited for her.

"The pay is minimal since it's more or less an internship until I graduate law school."

"Still…Tomson and March is very well-known," Santana wanted to bolster Cate's confidence, "I know I've heard of it…in the news and stuff."

"They're a big law firm, and they do a lot of constitutional law which is something I'd really enjoy long-term," Cate revealed, "So yeah, this would be a dream opportunity."

The waitress returned with two large cups of coffee, setting them down and asking Cate, "Did you need any cream?"

"No, this is fine," she answered.

When the girl walked away, Santana stirred a packet of sugar into her cup, saying with a chuckle, "I don't know how you drink that black."

Cate laughed with her, "Too many all-night study sessions over the past three years. I've gotta drink it straight up to get that buzz." She paused as she took a sip then, setting her cup back down, she continued, "…But enough about me. How's the auditioning going?"

"Brutal," Santana sighed.

"Didn't you have some recent stuff?"

"I had four open auditions last week. Two were equity, one was not, and the other was a complete joke." Santana physically shuddered at the memory of the creepy burlesque one.

Cate gave her an empathetic look. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Santana grimaced, "But then the weirdest thing happened just now."

"Here?"

"Yeah," the Latina picked up Miller Baskin's business card and handed it to the older brunette, telling her, "This guy offered me a job…or at least, I think he did."

"Miller Baskin, Photographer," Cate read.

"Random, right?"

"I thought that only happened in movies?"

Santana gave an awkward giggle, "Me too."

"Do you think you'll take it?"

"I sort of want to…but it seems too odd to me. What do you think?"

"I think you should follow your gut instinct," Cate suggested, "But sometimes stepping outside your comfort zone leads to great things, right?"

"Possibly," Santana still felt unsure, pausing a moment to reflect on her earlier encounter. The sound of Cate's coffee cup clanking against its plate roused her back to the present. "So you said you wanted to tell me something?"

Cate Boyd ran a quick hand through her short brown hair and shifted in her chair. "Oh right, I did," she started, "It's about the wedding."

"Have you two set a date?" Santana was glad to have made up with Quinn recently. She hated fighting with her best friend, especially since Santana needed all the support she could surround herself with while she was estranged from Brittany.

She knew Cate and Quinn were perfectly matched, and she was thrilled to find out the two planned to marry and raise Quinn's baby together.

"My preference is right away, but I want Quinn to have all the bells and whistles that go along with a wedding," Cate stated.

"Quinn is all about the details," Santana spoke from experience of being Quinn's best friend since high school then she added with a pause of reflection, "besides, you only get one shot at your first wedding."

"Exactly," the older girl moved past the awkward moment, "I told her she could pick any date that works for her as long as it was _before_ the baby comes."

Santana refocused her eyes on Cate, pulling herself away from thoughts of her own wedding and back to the current conversation. "What date did she choose?"

"January 22nd…she wants it at night with all the white lights we can afford," Cate smiled as she thought of her soon-to-be-bride.

"It sounds like it will be beautiful, Cate," Santana assured, "You two deserve the happy ending."

"So the reason I wanted to talk to you alone is because I have a request…," Cate hesitated.

"Request? Ohhkay…what is it?"

"I want you to be my best man…person…uhh, best girl," Cate stumbled over her words, shaking her head, "You know what I mean…right?"

"Me? Your best man?" Santana couldn't hide her shock, "Why me?"

"Listen, I know you're Quinn's best friend and all, and she really wanted to ask you to be her matron of honor," Cate explained, "but I told her how important you are to me…and to us, being together…twice. It would just mean a lot to me, Santana."

Santana could see Cate's hands trembling as she spoke, so she reached across and placed a steadying hand on top. "Say no more. I'll be there."

"Seriously?" Cate beamed.

"Absolutely!" Santana declared, "I'd be honored to stand beside you."

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday, November 9, 2022<strong>

**6:42 PM**

"MEMEMEMEMEMEMEMEME," Rachel Berry began her vocal warm up in her dressing room just as she did each night before curtain.

The brunette songstress stood as tall as her petite stature would allow, shoulders back, hands clasped in front of her, and she pushed from her diaphragm the way she learned to do long ago.

"WOOWOOWOOWOOWOOWOO," she continued up the standard scale then back down again. She paused a moment, inhaling and exhaling, expanding her vocal muscles.

Just as she started humming to stimulate her lips, there was a knock at her door, and Grayson Knox cracked it open and peeked inside.

Seeing his girlfriend still in her robe, he cleverly quipped, "Oh excuse me, Ms. Brice…I'd be happy to wait while you change."

Extremely pleased that Grayson could use a line from her show Funny Girl in casual conversation, she took a sip of her hot tea and waved him in, whispering, "Hi, honey."

He leaned to give her a quick kiss, "How are you feeling tonight?"

She gave him thumbs up, preserving her voice as much as possible before show time.

"There's a great audience tonight, sweetheart. I saw Aaron Tveit in the lobby and then Audra MacDonald's backstage talking with your director." He seemed as excited as any Broadway fan.

Rachel smiled broadly and poured more liquid into her vintage tea cup, a gift from her dads. It was identical to the one Barbra Streisand herself used backstage during the original run of Funny Girl. Drinking from it each night before her performance, Rachel felt like she was transported back in time, walking the same notorious steps of her idol.

"Ok, I know you need to dress now. I'll see you afterwards," he pulled a single white rose from inside his suit jacket and gave it to her, kissing her softly once again, "I love you."

"I love you too. Thank you for being here…again." Rachel treasured how much Grayson supported her. This had to be his thirtieth attendance since the show opened in July, but he never seemed bored with any of the cast's performances.

"My pleasure," Grayson winked as he opened her dressing room door to leave, turning back to add, "Break a leg, Ms. Brice."

As he closed the door behind him, he bumped into a small group of the chorus, including Brittany S. Pierce.

"Brittany, how are you?" Grayson asked, pleasantly surprised for an opportunity to see his former neighbor. Now that the blonde dancer was no longer living at the West Village apartment with Santana, it had been several weeks since they spoke.

"Hey, Gray…," Brittany said warmly, telling the rest of her group, "You guys go ahead."

Grayson gave her an embrace though he was careful to not smudge her stage make up, "You look great."

"Thanks, you too," she replied, thinking he looked particularly handsome in his suit, "You staying for tonight's show?"

"Yes, looking forward to it as always. I was just saying a quick hi to Rach."

The two tall blondes stood in an awkward silence until Grayson said, "Rachel's been wanting to have you over for dinner."

"She's mentioned it a few times," Brittany acknowledged, "It's my fault for never picking a date, sorry about that."

"No, it's cool. I know how busy the show keeps you all," he eased past her evasiveness.

"Ok, well…soon though," she affirmed, starting to walk past him, "Nice to see you."

"You too, Britt." He let her take a few steps then he decided to take a chance, "Hey, Britt…wait!"

"Yeah?" She turned back around.

"How about dinner next Monday?"

She reflected a moment. "Uh…next Monday? The 14th?"

Grayson nodded.

"Why next week?" the blonde dancer seemed suspicious of the timing.

Grayson hesitated initially then said with a grin, "Why not?"

"Does this have anything to do with Santana?"

"Why would it?"

"Because her birthday is next week," Brittany stated, crossing her arms, "And I wouldn't put it past Rachel to coordinate something with us both there."

"Don't blame Rachel, ok? This was my idea…she knows nothing of it," he confessed.

"Nice try, Grayson," Brittany seemed perturbed, pushing past him in the hallway.

"Brittany, stop!" He caught up to her and pulled on her elbow, "Wait a sec, please."

"I don't appreciate being ambushed," she told him with fire behind her bright blue eyes, "Besides I don't want to do that to Santana when she thinks she's there to celebrate her birthday."

"Ok, you're right…It was wrong of me to force the two of you together," he admitted, "I was only trying to help."

"I know," she validated his attempt.

"She misses you," he couldn't help himself.

Brittany looked down at her feet, feeling an instant tug at her heart. She softly confessed, "I miss her too."

"Will you at least consider being there? Eight o'clock at Rachel's," he told her, "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Brittany stared into Grayson green eyes. He was one of the most sincere people she'd ever met, and he had been a rock of support during some of her worst moments.

She finally relented, "I'll consider it."

He grinned ear to ear. "Awesome."

"No promises though," she warned with a small smile.

"I'll take it," he said as he started to walk off, adding, "Have a great show!"

* * *

><p><strong>Friday, November 11, 2022<strong>

**4:08 PM**

Santana dumped a load of clean laundry on her bed and picked up a fresh-smelling shirt. She gave it a firm shake to rid the red cotton of any wrinkles then folded it and turned to put it in the top drawer of a nearby chest. She did the same to a faded black t-shirt, two pajama sets, a pair of yoga pants, and five pairs of underwear.

When the drawer was full, she closed it then hung up a flowered skirt and pair of jeans in her closet. Before shutting the door, she paused and ran her fingers slowly across several of her wife's shirts.

Every time Santana did laundry, she looked over Brittany's belongings. She could remember vividly the last time she saw the beautiful blonde in each item of clothing. They were all happy memories…until they weren't anymore.

Everything about them pained her now. They still smelled like Brittany. They were Brittany's favorite colors, her favorite styles. Even Santana's own clothes were upsetting at times. She avoided wearing the outfits she knew her wife loved her in most. New clothes were her solace now, things that had no part of her past life with Brittany.

The Latina sighed and pulled on the curtain to close off the bedroom from the rest of the apartment. She busied herself with other chores, sweeping, washing the few dishes in the sink, collecting a couple of take-out containers and tying up the garbage bag.

Santana opened the front door of apartment 6C, leaving it cracked as she stepped down the staircase to the level below. She lifted the bag into the garbage shoot and slammed closed the metal door with a grimace. She loathed housework and manual labor, silently acknowledging all that Brittany did around their apartment when she lived there. If given the chance though, Santana promised herself she would help out more and lighten the load on Brittany.

As she reached the landing back on the sixth floor, she heard her cell phone ringing. She was expecting a call from her agent, Adrian Locke, on whether she was called back for a role in an off-Broadway show.

Santana quickened her steps and grabbed her phone off the coffee table, answering without even looking, "Hello?"

"Santana?"

The brunette inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath to respond, "Speaking." She knew the female voice was not Adrian.

"Is everything ok?"

"Yes, why?"

"You're out of breath. I, uh…I just wondered," the person at the other end of the phone expressed concern, but there was distinct hesitation in her voice.

Santana finally caught her breath and made a surprised realization. "Brittany?"

"Yeah," Brittany confirmed.

Santana felt bewildered at the sound of her wife's voice after so many weeks. The sensation felt peculiar, but Brittany's voice was as identifiable as an old coat, warm and soothing, even though there was a distinct distance to it.

There was a longer pause than Santana realized until she heard Brittany say, "Maybe I shouldn't have called."

"No! I'm thrilled that you called," the Latina told her, "I was just thinking about you."

"You were?"

"I'm always thinking about you, but yeah…I was putting away laundry. There's still some of your clothes in the closet."

"Oh yeah…I guess I should come by and get the rest," Brittany said sadly.

That wasn't the response the brunette was hoping for from her estranged wife. "I guess so…only if you want them. I mean, I assume you want them…I just really was hoping…." Santana trailed off.

This wasn't exactly going smoothly.

Santana decided to go all in, "It's really good to hear your voice."

There was silence again. Finally, Brittany confirmed with true sincerity, "It's really good to hear yours too."

"How is everything going with you?"

"It's been good," Brittany replied, "I mainly just go to practice then do the show each night."

"They're still working you guys off stage?" Santana chuckled.

"Yeah, can you believe?" Brittany's demeanor relaxed, "They tweak something in the chorus most days."

"It's received great press. There's buzz all over town," the Latina told her, "I've been so proud of you."

"Thanks, Tan," Brittany's voice softened, "That means a lot."

Santana realized she was still standing in the center of the room. She moved to the sofa and sat down, crossing her legs under her.

"My birthday is next week." She wasn't sure why she said that.

"How could I forget," Brittany acknowledged, "I heard that Rachel is hosting a dinner party for you."

"Yeah, she called a few days ago to find out what I wanted on the menu," Santana laughed at how meticulous her sister was with her plans and lists. Everything in Rachel's world was organized and scheduled to the last tiny detail.

"She loves you, she just wants it to be perfect for you," Brittany reminded.

"It would be perfect if you were there," Santana revealed before she even thought about any consequence of her request.

There was another pause, and Santana immediately felt vulnerable. She could hear Brittany breathing.

"I shouldn't have said that," the Latina tried for a quick recovery, "I don't want to pressure you."

"No, it's fine. The party is actually why I called," Brittany replied.

"It is?"

"Well, mostly," Brittany confessed, "I've wanted to contact you recently. You've been on my mind…I even had a dream about us."

"A dream? Really?" Santana felt butterflies in her stomach, "A nice one, I hope."

"Very," the blonde divulged, a smile crossing her lips at the recollection, but she decided to change the subject, "Rachel told me you are doing better."

"I'm trying," the Latina answered resolutely, "I stopped drinking. Not one drop in weeks. I quit smoking too. And I'm auditioning. In fact, I'm waiting to hear about a call back this afternoon."

"That's great, honey," Brittany said positively.

_Honey_. The sentiment was so subtle, Santana could have easily missed it, but she heard it clearly…and it warmed her entire body. A huge grin crossed her face as she replied with a simple, "Thank you."

"I want to know if you get the call back, ok?"

_She wants to talk to me again_. Santana felt like the giddy teenager she once was when she and Brittany sat in the back row of Glee club, sneaking quick touches.

"Of course," she told her wife then she pushed further, "So…will I see you Monday night?"

Brittany full out laughed. The familiar rapport was back.

"Possibly," she teased her wife, stretching the response to, "Probably."

"I'll take 'probably'," Santana quipped good-naturedly.

"Ok hon, I need to get something to eat so I can head over to the theater," Brittany stated.

"I understand."

"Have a good evening," Brittany added.

"You too," Santana replied. She didn't want this connection to end, but she knew she needed to let Brittany take the lead. "Hey, Britt," Santana stopped her wife, "I'm so glad you called."

There was a short pause as if Brittany wanted to say more. Instead she simply said, "Me too…goodnight."

The call ended, leaving Santana in her empty apartment. It was starting to get dark inside now that the afternoon sun was going down, but Santana saw nothing but the bright light of hope surrounding her.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>:

If you came back to read this long-awaited update…THANK YOU! The long gap was unavoidable and unintended, but this story is not abandoned. As promised, I will see this to the end. There will be another update shortly.

Please leave me a review and tell me what you think. I hope the wait was worth it.

On a personal note, I want to give huge thanks to my girlfriend, Shay, for her endless support and encouragement. I love you very much, honey.


	22. Just a Little Bit's Enough

**Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 22)**

_Right from the start__  
><em>_You were a thief, you stole my heart__  
><em>_And I, your willing victim__  
><em>_I let you see the parts of me__  
><em>_That weren't all that pretty,__  
><em>_And with every touch, you fixed them__  
><em>_Now you've been talking in your sleep,__  
><em>_Things you never say to me,__  
><em>_Tell me that you've had enough__  
><em>_Of our love, our love…__Just give me a reason,__  
><em>_Just a little bit's enough,__  
><em>_Just a second we're not broken, just bent__  
><em>_And we can learn to love again._

_It's in the stars,__  
><em>_It's been written in the scars on our hearts,__  
><em>_We're not broken just bent__  
><em>_And we can learn to love again…_

_I'm sorry I don't understand where all of this is coming from,__  
><em>_I thought that we were fine,__  
><em>_Oh we had everything.__  
><em>_Your head is running wild again,__  
><em>_My dear we still have everything,__  
><em>_And it's all in your mind__  
><em>_(Yeah, but this is happening)__  
><em>_You've been having real bad dreams,__  
><em>_Oh oh__  
><em>_You used to lie so close to me,__  
><em>_Oh oh__  
><em>_There's nothing more than empty sheets,__  
><em>_Between our love, our love, oh our love, our love…_

_Just give me a reason__  
><em>_Just a little bit's enough__  
><em>_Just a second we're not broken just bent,__  
><em>_And we can learn to love again__  
><em>_It's in the stars__  
><em>_It's been written in the scars on our hearts__  
><em>_We're not broken just bent__  
><em>_And we can learn to love again…__I never stopped,__  
><em>_You're still written in the scars on my heart__  
><em>_You're not broken just bent and we can learn to love again…__Oh tears ducts and rust__  
><em>_I'll fix it for us__  
><em>_We're collecting dust but our love's enough__  
><em>_You're holding it in__  
><em>_You're pouring a drink__  
><em>_No nothing is as bad as it seems__  
><em>_We'll come clean…__Just give me a reason__  
><em>_Just a little bit's enough__  
><em>_Just a second we're not broken just bent__  
><em>_And we can learn to love again__  
><em>_It's in the stars__  
><em>_It's been written in the scars on our hearts__  
><em>_We're not broken just bent__  
><em>_And we can learn to love again…._

(**Just Give Me A Reason ~ P!nk with Nate Ruess**)

**Saturday, November 12, 2022**

**10: 28 am**

"Come on, Quinn," Santana voiced loudly with a heavy sigh. She rolled her dark brown eyes as she sat down dramatically on a nearby plush sofa, "I could've already hand beaded a dress by now."

Rachel Berry blithely slapped at Santana's shoulder, giving her the _shut up_ look. "Take your time Quinn…this is all about you."

"If she takes any longer, she's going to have that baby in the dressing room," Santana lamented.

Rachel closed the bridal magazine in her hands and leaned toward her sister to whisper, "She gets to do this once in her lifetime…now shush!"

A few minutes later, an older woman stepped from behind a closed curtain. She turned toward the seated brunettes and gave them a pleasant smile, informing them, "I think we found the one."

"Okay…are you girls ready?" Quinn asked coyly from the other side of the curtain.

_We've been ready_, Santana started to say, but instead, she plastered a smile on her face and nodded as Rachel answered, "Yes, of course! Come on out!"

As soon as the curtain opened and Quinn stepped out into the bright lights of the boutique, time stood still for all of them. The dress Quinn chose was a light smoky grey, with a modest but dazzlingly beaded top. It had a high neck line and capped sleeves, and the bottom was made of long, flowing chiffon that perfectly accentuated Quinn's growing baby bump.

"Oh wow, Quinn…," Santana was finally at a loss for words.

Rachel wiped a tear from her eye and clasped her hands, "You look amazing!"

"Not like a dressed up whale?" Quinn turned to look at herself in the circle of full length mirrors.

"You look like a beautiful, sparkling princess," Rachel assured the mother-to-be.

"Really?" Quinn asked self-consciously.

"Really," Santana confirmed, "You are breathtaking, Quinn. Cate will love it."

A huge smile spread across Quinn's face as she turned toward the older woman, "This is definitely _the one_ then."

"Perfect. We'll get your measurements," the woman replied cheerfully, "Once the finished gown arrives, we can make the necessary adjustments for you before your wedding."

Quinn put her hands on her stomach, saying, "I'm glad there's growing room."

Rachel sat again and pulled out her iPad, scrolling through her notes, "Okay, venue…check. Lighting…check. Wedding gown…check." The petite starlet put a check mark on her list next to the item, adding, "So now we just need to finalize your colors, and we can meet with the florist and pick out our bridesmaids dresses."

"What color were you thinking?" Santana asked.

"I'm still trying to decide," Quinn told them, "I want a winter color."

"Well, red is festive…Black is classic," Santana answered, adding with a flip of her long hair, "And I look great in both of those!"

Quinn giggled, "I'll keep that in mind."

"Green would match your eyes, Quinn," Rachel suggested with a sweet smile.

"Those are all great suggestions," the blonde told them then paused contemplatively, "But, I'm thinking of something with special meaning to surprise Cate."

"Do we get to know?" Santana furrowed her brow, "Or is it a surprise for all of us?"

"Maybe," Quinn winked, "Now let me get out of this so we can go eat."

She went back to the dressing room with the older woman.

"I'm getting so excited!" Rachel was beside herself with enthusiasm in assisting Quinn with arrangements for the wedding. She continued to look at the wedding notes she and Brittany made with Quinn the week before, "If Brittany can book the band Quinn wants for the reception, we are in good shape."

Rachel realized she was thinking out loud and looked up at Santana.

"You don't have to look at me like that _every_ time her name is mentioned," Santana said, turning to inspect a display of wedding accessories.

"I wasn't looking any certain way," Rachel fibbed, putting away her iPad and restacking the bridal magazines on the small side table.

"Yes you were," the Latina pressed, "but it's fine…_I'm_ fine. Besides, I talked to Brittany last night."

Rachel stood, her face showing complete surprise. "What?"

Santana smiled sheepishly, "She called me. We talked."

"And you are just now telling me this?"

"Telling what?" Quinn asked, stepping back out into the main area of the boutique. "I want to know too."

"Brittany called her last night," the shorter brunette revealed, moving closer to the other girls.

"How did it go?" Quinn asked, sounding just as surprised as Rachel.

"Awkward at first," Santana was honest, "then, I don't know, it was good. She hinted she might be there Monday."

"At dinner?" Quinn clarified.

Santana nodded and grinned.

"That's wonderful!" Rachel said, enveloping her sister in a tight hug.

Quinn put her arms around them both from the side, "This has been the best day. I'm so glad you girls could be here with me."

Rachel broke the hug and pushed them toward the door. "Now let's go eat…I've got a matinee to get to!"

* * *

><p><strong>12:10 pm<strong>

"Glasses up, ladies," Quinn instructed, raising her virgin Bloody Mary in the air.

Rachel did the same with her champagne flute of mimosa then giggled as she waited for Santana to join in.

"Get 'em up," Quinn pushed playfully, "A toast to my dearest friends."

Santana smiled and added her glass of sparkling water.

"The planning of this wedding is fast and furious, but I would not want to do it with anyone other than you girls."

Both brunettes were genuinely touched by Quinn's sentiment.

The blonde clanked her glass against theirs. "So here's to my lovely maid of honor," she said to Rachel then winked at Santana, continuing her toast, "And to the most voluptuous best man ever."

"Oh funny…," Santana nodded in appreciation of Quinn's humor.

Rachel laughed and finished the last of her drink.

"Now, you're sure you are okay with being on Cate's side of the ceremony?" Quinn verified with her best friend.

"Yes, of course," Santana assured her, "I am honored she asked me."

"Well, don't worry, Santana…you get to be my matron of honor," Rachel disclosed to them.

Quinn pointed out excitedly, "That's right, Rachel's next!"

"Not yet! I have a very specific order in my mind," Rachel reminded.

The pregnant beauty leaned back in her chair, reflecting aloud, "Ahhh yes, the Rachel Berry bucket list of success…NYADA then staring in her first Broadway show by age twenty five…."

Rachel interrupted, "Which…technically I accomplished even though that show was a flop."

They all grimaced in laughter, recalling that short-lived musical.

Santana sat up in her seat, "Yes, I remember this well. Her first Tony by thirty…."

She pointed a long, thin finger at Rachel who finished reciting her list, "…then happily married by thirty two." She grinned, stating proudly, "So see, I still have four whole years before I walk down the aisle!"

"But...," Santana interjected, "I think I know who will be waiting at the other end of that aisle."

Rachel blushed as she smiled, "I think I do too."

Quinn rubbed her belly, asking pleasantly, "Ok, who's going to share dessert with me?"

Santana wiped at the corners of her mouth with a white cloth napkin, laying it to the side of her mostly empty plate, "No way, Q…I'm stuffed."

"Rach?"

The young starlet finished the bite she was chewing. "Nooooo, not today. I need to sing in a couple of hours." She took a sip of ice water and pushed back her salad bowl.

A waiter appeared, reaching in front of each of them to clear their plates. "Can I bring you ladies anything else today?"

"I guess not," Quinn answered with a playful frown.

The cellphone in Santana's purse rang so she reached in to see who was calling. "Oh, this is my agent, let me take this," she told them then spoke directly into the phone, "Finally!"

"Hey, Santana," Adrian Locke replied casually.

"I've been waiting two days for you to call me…did I get the call back?"

"I'm sorry," he stated, "You weren't chosen. But listen, I heard about another open call for next week. I'll text you the address ok?"

Santana closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. She really wanted that call back, not so much for the part but just to validate her efforts, to confirm that she still had what it took to move forward in this town.

"Santana?" Adrian verbally nudged.

Santana opened her eyes, seeing both Rachel and Quinn watching her reaction to the phone conversation. "Yeah, that's fine…just send me the details," she answered tentatively then hung up and laid the phone on the table.

Rachel could tell Santana was upset. She put her hand over her sister's hand and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I didn't get the call back," Santana revealed with a shrug, putting on a nonchalant tone, "No big deal."

"I'm sorry," Rachel grimaced. She understood the feeling of rejection in this business, especially in New York.

"There will be other auditions," Santana tried to sound upbeat, pausing before she added regretfully, "I'm just afraid I'll lose my chance with Brittany if I can't get my shit together."

Rachel and Quinn looked at each other, both wanting to help.

"What about the photographer you mentioned earlier?" Quinn suggested.

"Yes! Call him," Rachel agreed enthusiastically.

"You think I should?" the Latina was still uncertain.

"Call now," Quinn insisted, pushing Santana's phone closer to her, "What do you have to lose?"

Santana dug in her handbag until she found the black business card. She hesitated but ultimately picked up the phone and dialed the number on the card.

There were several rings, and Santana almost hung up but then a voice answered, "Hello?"

"Miller?"

"Yes, who is calling?"

"I met you the other day at MOJO's…."

"Ah, Santana?" Miller asked with immediate recognition.

"You remember," Santana smiled with relief.

"I never forget such a beautiful face," Miller told her.

Santana ran her hand through her dark hair, unsure what to say next.

"Relax, Santana…I can nearly hear you blushing through the phone," he joked, trying to ease the tension, "I wasn't sure I'd hear from you."

Santana looked up at Quinn and Rachel for reassurance. Both silently nodded their encouragement.

The Latina took a deep breath then said, "Well, you're in luck…I happen to be available if you still need someone."

"Definitely…I'd love to include you in my work. Can you come by my studio next week?"

"Yeah, I can do that. Does Tuesday work for you?" Santana offered.

"Tuesday is great. Let's say around…two o'clock?"

"I'll see you then," she agreed, "Thank you, Miller."

"No, thank you. See you Tuesday," he told her before hanging up.

Santana felt satisfaction. She smiled at her friends.

"Yay!" Rachel beamed, thrilled to see Santana's life back on track.

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, November 13, 2022<strong>

**7:22 pm**

Grayson Knox opened the front door of Rachel Berry's apartment. He was carrying a pink cake box which he gingerly balanced in his hands while he pushed the door shut with his foot.

Placing a set of keys in a polished silver bowl on the ornate entry table, he called out, "Rachel."

There was no answer.

"Honey?" he called again, "I got the cake. Where do you want me to put it?"

There was still no answer.

Grayson made his way down the short hallway toward the kitchen, rounding the corner. "Rach?"

Inside the small but renovated space, he found Rachel crying. She was sitting in the floor next to a metal roasting sheet and a dozen or more tiny potatoes.

"Rachel?"

She burst into more tears but still said nothing.

Grayson set the cake on the counter and kneeled beside the crumpled Broadway star. "Oh honey, what happened?"

Through her sob, she managed to tell him the obvious, "I dropped the potatoes."

"I can see that," he consoled her, trying to hide his grin.

"The pan slipped when I was taking them out," she recounted.

"That's ok…the rest of us can make do with the roast. Let me make a quick salad."

"The roast is ruined too," the petite brunette revealed then cried more while explaining, "I feel so bad, because you spent all day making it." She continued in a blubbering ramble, "I thought I turned the top oven on for the potatoes, but I accidentally turned the bottom oven back on and it burnt." She paused then wailed, "It looks like an old, black shoe."

"It was an accident, honey," he emphasized, "It could've happened to anyone."

"But it didn't…it happened to _me_," she told him, "and I wanted everything to be perfect for Santana's birthday. And I wanted my friends to think I could cook, but now they'll just laugh because they all know I can't."

"Oh sweetheart, come here," Grayson pulled her into his chest and hugged her, telling her calmly, "I'll tell them I burnt the roast, and we'll tell them you made the green beans. Which they _will _believe, since you are our lovely vegetarian."

"We can't even do that," Rachel pulled back and wiped at her very wet, red eyes.

"Why not?"

"I forgot to buy them," she confessed, whimpering.

Grayson snickered under his breath, telling her, "It happens. You are very busy these days, Rach."

He could hear her sniffing so he handed her a clean tissue from a box on the shelf above them then he hugged her again before asking curiously, "Do you have anything in the fridge we could make quickly?"

She wiped at her tears and blew her nose, "I don't think so. There's maybe grapes and some leftover saag paneer."

Grayson helped her stand before opening the refrigerator door. He stood looking, "Well, you remembered to chill the wine…and there's some brie."

He turned and looked at her. Her mascara was smeared, and her eyes were puffy. "Hey listen," he started, looking at a nearby clock, "Everyone will be here in about thirty minutes. You go catch your breath and finish getting ready while I clean up and call in a favor from an old friend, ok?"

She nodded, still sad at the mess she made of the dinner party.

He pulled up on her chin and asked, "Do you know how adorable you are right now?"

That got a small chuckle. "Yeah, right."

"Seriously…I could not love you any more than I do right now."

"Promise?" she probed.

"Pinky promise," he winked then kissed her softly on the lips, "Now leave everything to me."

* * *

><p><strong>8:08 PM<strong>

The doorbell rang, and Rachel opened it immediately.

"Hellooooo," Kurt and Blaine said simultaneously, each presenting their hostess with a bottle of wine.

"One red," Kurt stated.

"One white," Blaine joined.

Kurt gave his high-pitched giggle. "The best of both worlds," he claimed as he walked through the doorway and hugged Rachel.

"Just like us," Blaine added with a giant grin, also hugging Rachel.

"I'm so glad you made it!" she told the boys. The pep was back in her demeanor even though she had no idea what Grayson planned to do for dinner.

The threesome walked toward the living room which was recently decorated by a well-known interior designer who was thrilled to have been contacted by the production staff of _Funny Girl_. They paid to have Rachel's entire apartment completely redesigned for an upcoming photo layout, promoting the show in its bid for Tony recognition.

"Rachel, the finished space is amazing," Kurt told her as they entered the vintage-chic living area. It was mostly hues of grey and silver and white with accents of Tiffany blue.

Rachel twirled dramatically, "I love it! It's so beautiful and serene."

"Want a drink, guys?" Grayson was mixing himself one at the mirrored-glass side bar. He gave the cocktail shaker a firm shake then poured the clear liquid into a martini glass. Once he garnishing it with two green olives on an ornate pick, he lifted the glass to offer it up, confirming with a wink, "Shaken…not stirred."

"I'll have one," Blaine took the offered glass, taking a sip, "Mmmm, perfect."

"Rachel, if you'll get me a couple of bottles of wine, I'll go ahead and open them," Grayson said.

"Be right back," she smiled at the group of men.

The doorbell rang again.

Rachel called from the kitchen, "Kurt, would you get the door?"

"Certainement," he said casually with a French accent, heading toward the door.

He reached for the knob just as the door opened and Santana walked inside.

"Satan!" he greeted her mischievously, kissing her cheek.

"Good thing that never gets old, Lady Hummel," she teased.

"And neither does that," he retorted with a forced smile, "Come check out the new living room décor!"

"I saw it the other day," she took off her jacket as they walked, "Isn't it divine? And absolutely, 100 percent free…I can't believe they paid for it."

"Believe it, sister!" Rachel said, walking up behind them. She paused to give Santana a kiss, "Hello. Give me a sec, and I'll put your coat in the bedroom."

"I can take it, Rach…finish what you're doing."

Santana walked to the back of the apartment where she knew Rachel's room was and draped her jacket across one of the two sitting chairs. She admired the new design a moment then she heard the doorbell. Her heart fluttered, hoping it was Brittany.

As she made her way back down the hallway, she heard Quinn's voice.

"This is really stunning …I love that color," Quinn said as Santana re-entered the living room.

"Tiffany blue," Rachel beamed.

"That was my suggestion," Kurt beamed too, taking a sip of wine.

"Hey, Happy Birthday," Cate exclaimed spiritedly when she saw Santana.

The Latina smiled broadly, "Thank you." She always loved being the center of attention.

"So what's for dinner?" Blaine asked.

"I'm starving," Santana could feel her stomach rumbling, partly from hunger and partly from nerves of possibly seeing Brittany.

"Uhh, good question…Grayson?" Rachel grimaced, "Did we have an ETA on dinner?"

"Any time now, guys…hang in there!" he told them cryptically, "We had a slight setback earlier in the evening, but we'll be back on track shortly."

Santana stepped into the kitchen to get some water. Seeing the pink cake box, she lifted the lid and grinned. Her birthday cake looked delicious, and she touched the tip of her finger in the bottom part of the icing to taste it.

"Hey, birthday girl," a familiar voice said from behind her.

She turned quickly to find Brittany standing there, smiling at her.

"You came!" Santana sounded relieved.

Brittany giggled, "I caught you, didn't I?"

"Caught me what?" Santana feigned innocence.

"You were sneaking a bite of icing…just like you do every year."

"Me? Never," Santana fibbed.

Brittany stepped closer to her wife and wiped the tiny bit of chocolate icing from her chin, chuckling, "It'll be our secret."

"Brittany!" Rachel unintentionally interrupted the couple. She set an empty wine bottle on the back part of the counter and hugged the tall blonde with both arms. "I'm so glad you joined us."

Brittany looked over at Santana again and smiled, replying, "Me too."

"Food's here!" Grayson announced as two dark-haired men entered the cramped kitchen behind him.

The name of the restaurant on the catering bags said **Ethos Greek Tavern**.

"It smells incredible," Santana commented, stepping out of the kitchen to make room for set up.

"You ordered Greek?" Rachel said with slight confusion.

Grayson nodded at his sometimes uptight girlfriend, asking rhetorically, "Who doesn't enjoy Greek?"

"Greek?" Cate stuck her head into the kitchen, "I love Greek!"

"See?" Grayson kissed a stone-faced Rachel Berry on the mouth, adding festively, "Opa!"

"Grayson Knox," Rachel warned sternly, "Don't you dare start throwing my good china against the wall!"

He laughed and gently guided her out into the living room with her guests.

Once the setup was complete, Grayson walked the men back to the front door, giving them a handful of cash. "Tell Costas thank you…I owe him big time!"

"Thank _you_," the taller of the two men responded, "Enjoy."

Grayson shut the door behind them, turning and saying, "Let's eat!"

* * *

><p><strong>9:54 pm<strong>

The conversation at the round dinner table was starting to die down. The clank of glasses and plates being stacked together could be heard as Rachel brought another chilled bottle of wine from the kitchen.

"Will you open this?" she asked Grayson, squeezing his shoulder lovingly.

"Of course," he responded gladly.

"This orzo salad is delicious," Quinn stated, taking another bite.

"You said this place is in Midtown?" Blaine inquired.

"Yep, east…between 50th and 51st," he told them, "I've eaten there for years, best hummus I've ever had."

Rachel patted him on the back and proclaimed, "It was all a wonderful surprise."

"Ok, dim the lights," Kurt called out, "Drumroll please."

Cate flipped off the light switch behind her as the others lightly drummed on the table.

Brittany appeared with the tall chocolate cake which was now lit with multiple, colorful candles, and they all joined in a chorus of Happy Birthday.

Santana was seated and pushed aside her empty plate to make room for Brittany to set the cake in front of her.

As the singing finished, the group applauded.

Santana paused several seconds then inhaled a big breath. Right before she blew out her candles, Santana felt Brittany's hand pull her long, dark hair back as she leaned forward. The contact sent a tingle down Santana's spine, and she looked up at her wife.

Brittany gave her a sweet smile and reminded, "Don't forget to make a wish."

Santana knew exactly what her wish was then she blew out all her candles with one breath.

Cate turned back on the lights, and Kurt handed the Latina a giant knife to cut the cake.

Santana cut several slices, laying them on small dessert plates which they passed around the table until everyone had a piece.

"Oh my god, this is so decadent," Kurt said dramatically.

"I'm going to wrap up the rest of mine to take home, Rach," Quinn explained, "If I feed this kid too much sugar, we'll both be up all night."

"No problem, let me get some clear wrap," Rachel responded, returning to the nearby kitchen.

"Thank you all for helping me celebrate," Santana told the group, looking over at Brittany as she added, "It's been a rough year…but things are definitely looking up now."

They all smiled at the two of them, and repeated, "Happy Birthday, Santana."

Once the cake was eaten, they all took dirty dishes to the kitchen to clear the table.

Quinn and Cate hugged everyone and left, and the guys congregated around the sink to assist Rachel and Grayson with clean up.

Santana went down the hall to get her jacket, stopping first by the restroom. She washed her hands then opened the door, surprised to find Brittany waiting.

"Oh…hello," Santana greeted her.

"Hello again," Brittany joked. She lingered, asking, "Did you enjoy your party?"

"I did," Santana confirmed, "Thank you so much for coming tonight."

"I'm glad I came. It felt really good to see you, Santana."

"It felt really good to see you too," Santana stepped out of the doorway and closer to her wife, "It was the best part of my evening."

There was a slightly awkward pause between them. As the girls stood face to face, the voices of the others could be heard, followed by laughter that traveled from the kitchen.

Santana inched closer and asked timidly, "Can I give you a hug?"

Brittany let out a nervous snicker, "Of course you can."

They each put their arms around the other, gently at first, but then they both felt the other one tighten her hold.

Santana leaned into Brittany, instinctively smelling her long blonde hair. Just as she remembered, it smelled like a mixture of citrus and sunshine, and suddenly, Santana was home again in her wife's arms.

Brittany was unsure how long they held each other. It could have been five minutes or it could have been five seconds, but ultimately, she pulled away.

She took an extra couple of seconds to look into Santana's dark eyes then she tucked a wayward strand of dark hair behind her wife's ear.

Smiling, Brittany repeated, "Happy Birthday, hon."

"Thank you," Santana said with a heavy intake of air. She stepped around Brittany, saying, "I know you still need in the bathroom. I was just going to get my coat."

She walked toward Rachel's bedroom. Once inside, she had to collect herself. _Did that just happen? Ok, yes. That happened._ Santana's entire body shivered with emotion.

She took a deep breath then another. She swallowed to force moisture back into her mouth and reached for her coat. Before she could pick it up, she felt the motion of being turned around.

The next thing she comprehended was Brittany standing in front of her again, pushing against her body until her back was touching the bedroom wall, then kissing her hard against her mouth.

The kiss lasted several seconds. It was tender but determined; it was not guarded at all. Once the kiss broke, Santana stood motionless, her brown eyes fixed on Brittany's bright blue ones. She could not believe this was actually happening. Inwardly, Santana felt as taken aback as the first time she felt Brittany's lips on hers, back when they were teenage girls.

As giddy as Santana felt, she found the focus enough to put her hands around her wife's neck and pull her into another kiss…a longer one and then a more passionate one. The two of them kissed for several minutes, and their hands started to move up and down each other's bodies. Intense need soaked into their exchange, and they deepened their kiss even more.

Sounds around them dulled; time slowed. It was just Brittany and Santana, and if only for this moment, they were together again.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note<strong>:

Thoughts? Comments? Please leave me a review to give me encouragement to write the next chapter.

I was thrilled that so many of you enthusiastically returned to this story with me. Thank you so much for continuing to read!


	23. And You Let Her Go

**Quick recap since it's been so long since the last update:**

Santana grappled with the grief of her miscarriage. Feeling like it was a personal failure, she bottled her emotions and withdrew from Brittany and those around her, starting to drink heavily in an effort to numb her anguish.

Exhausted from the chaos and deeply hurt by Santana's misdirected anger at her, Brittany moved out and in with a generous colleague from the theater where she is a chorus dancer.

Santana has worked hard to stop drinking and get her life back on track in an effort to win back Brittany. She's gone on auditions but has not landed any roles yet. She met a popular photographer named Miller at a coffee shop. Miller was instantly drawn to Santana's beauty and gave her his business card, hoping to involve her in a new project of his.

In the last chapter, Quinn and Cate are happily planning their January wedding. Quinn is pregnant with Puck's baby – yes, again – but loves Cate and plans to raise the baby with her.

Rachel and Grayson are still dating, and they hosted a birthday party for Santana. All were pleased when Brittany showed up to help celebrate. Having Santana and Brittany in the same room together after several weeks of no contact did cause some awkwardness. However, by the end of the night, their innate chemistry overtook them, resulting in a romantic kiss.

I hope that helps reestablish the timeline for you… 

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><p><strong>Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 23)<strong>

_Well you only need the light when it's burning low_

_Only miss the sun when it starts to snow_

_Only know you love her when you let her go,_

_Only know you've been high when you're feeling low_

_Only hate the road when you're missin' home_

_Only know you love her when you let her go_

_And you let her go…_

_Staring at the bottom of your glass_

_Hoping one day you'll make a dream last_

_But dreams come slow and they go so fast,_

_You see her when you close your eyes_

_Maybe one day you'll understand why_

_Everything you touch surely dies…_

_But you only need the light when it's burning low_

_Only miss the sun when it starts to snow_

_Only know you love her when you let her go,_

_Only know you've been high when you're feeling low_

_Only hate the road when you're missin' home_

_Only know you love her when you let her go…_

_Staring at the ceiling in the dark_

_Same old empty feeling in your heart_

_'Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast,_

_Well you see her when you fall asleep,_

_But never to touch and never to keep_

_'Cause you loved her too much_

_And you dived too deep…_

_'Cause you only need the light when it's burning low_

_Only miss the sun when it starts to snow_

_Only know you love her when you let her go,_

_Only know you've been high when you're feeling low_

_Only hate the road when you're missin' home_

_Only know you love her when you let her go,_

_And you let her go._

**(Let Her Go ~ Passenger)**

**Monday, November 13, 2022**

**11:42 pm**

Santana Lopez loved bright lights. Any season, any occasion, life was better under the lights. She supposed it was a nostalgia thing, returning her to her teen years of high school in Lima, Ohio and the brightness of the football stadium on Friday nights.

Her connection to lights followed her into adulthood. Certainly, one of her favorite things about living among the energy of Manhattan was the brightly colored lights…and of course, bagels.

Anytime Santana took a cab through midtown, she would tilt her head upward and look out the rear window at the exhibition generated from the billboards, the marquees, and the video advertisements. The visual festival of color that pierced the darkness never disappointed her. The energy traveled through her blood and made her feel alive.

Tonight was no different. The beautiful brunette gazed out at iconic Times Square as her cab traveled down Broadway toward her apartment. The top of Santana's passenger window was opened three inches, allowing in some cool air which relaxed her. She was still in pleasant shock of how her birthday dinner ended. _Brittany_…she grinned.

Santana's fingers went to her mouth, tracing the fullness of her lower portion. Her lips still tingled from the eagerness she and Brittany exchanged, and her mind wandered back to their kiss. Had it really happened or did she imagine it?

Santana missed her wife so much that sometimes she had thoughts so vivid it was like Brittany was there with her. She felt an intense heat flare throughout her entire body, and suddenly, sitting in the back of cab was too constricting for the Latina. Her body needed movement.

Santana leaned forward and requested, "Excuse me, would you pull over?"

The cab driver nodded and looked over his right shoulder to check for traffic in the outer lane. He moved over and safely guided the cab to a stop near the intersection of Broadway and West 4th Street. Santana paid the older man and hopped out, shutting the cab door and stepping up on the curb.

She stood a moment, letting the chilled November breeze blow against her face and cool down her body. A wind like tonight's always stirred up a mix of smells you could only experience in a huge city like New York, that eclectic blend of global cuisine, car exhaust, and garbage. Santana zipped her leather jacket and started walking, meandering down side streets toward her apartment building.

Her pace was slower than usual, slightly less purposeful than pedestrians passing her. Santana's mind wandered as she walked. The dark beauty had a lot to think about, and she continued to revel in the nights' festivities.

Life felt sort of whole again, especially being near Brittany, even if she and Santana weren't at the party together. The former head cheerleader felt good being around her old friends too. Any gathering with Glee club members was a step back in time, a chance to be around those her knew her best, an occasion to laugh at their familiar antics.

Santana's smile still clung to her cheeks as she took a deep breath and quickened her pace, crossing the street.

She round a corner off Bleecker onto her quiet side street, moving over slightly as a couple, joined hand in hand, walked toward her, taking up most of the sidewalk. Her head turned to give them a last look as they disappeared behind her. Turning back around, she noticed someone sitting on the steps of her apartment building. Her stride tarried once she realized who it was sitting there.

"Well hello," Santana greeted with a hint of confusion.

"Fancy meeting you here," Brittany joked, winking at the brunette.

Santana giggled. Brittany's humor was Santana's weakness, no matter the situation.

"Have you been waiting long?" the Latina asked.

Brittany looked down at her wrist even though she wasn't wearing a watch. "Ohhh, it hasn't been an unbearable amount of time," she cheerfully reasoned, "Besides, it's a beautiful night."

"Agreed…I decided to walk part of the way," Santana told her wife, "Though…had I known you were here, I would have hurried home."

_Geez, Santana…that sounded desperate_, she self-chided. She was grateful it was mostly dark around them, because she could feel a flush of embarrassment spread across her face.

Brittany smiled, recognizing every nuance of the girl in front of her. "No worries," she assured her, trying to offset some of Santana's awkwardness by adding, "I would have waited all night."

Santana blushed again for a completely different reason. "I'm glad you did."

"Did you enjoy your party?" Brittany inquired casually.

"I really did," she answered enthusiastically then added with a coy smile, "Especially the end."

Brittany grinned with a slight nod of agreement, admitting, "Me too."

"It was unexpected," Santana acknowledged, glancing down at her hands which were clasped in front of her, adding, "So is this, actually."

Brittany stood up and moved down the few steps to close the gap between them. "Well…," she reached for her wife's hand, noticing that it was trembling, "Honestly, I couldn't get you off my mind."

With that confession, Brittany leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on Santana's lips.

"I've missed you, Santana," the blonde told her, "I didn't realize just how much until I saw you tonight."

Santana didn't know what to say, the thousands of apologies and heartfelt phrases she'd pondered in her head now seemed inadequate in Brittany's presence. Instead, she put her arms around her wife's neck and pulled her into a deep kiss.

The two kissed then kissed again. Neither could be certain exactly who initiated the first step toward the door of the building, but before either could form a complete thought or say anything more, they were already moving up the many stairs to get to the sixth floor apartment. It seemed to take three times as long as usual because they couldn't keep their lips or hands off each other.

They somehow made it to the top floor, not regretting a single stalled moment to linger in each other's grip. Santana fumbled getting the key in the door lock as Brittany kissed the back of the brunette's neck while stroking her already-erect nipple.

Santana paused, her body falling forward against the wood of the door. Brittany's hot breath and familiar hands on her skin were overwhelming the Latina. She moaned out in a raspy voice, "Holy shit."

Those sounds only encouraged the impish blonde. Brittany slipped her other hand inside Santana's silk blouse, unbuttoned about three floors down, and cupped her hand around her wife's other breast. She spread her fingers to cover its fullness, squeezing it with the perfect amount of pressure. Santana's knees buckled, forcing more of her weight against the hard surface of the door.

Brittany leaned into Santana, eliciting more moaning from her as she nibbled her ear, Brittany's lips traveling down Santana's neck.

"I've missed hearing you moan too," Brittany confided in a breathy whisper.

Eventually, Santana refocused enough to unlock the door and turn the knob. The girls stepped inside the tiny apartment and turned quickly into each other's arms.

Brittany and Santana were so innately drawn to each other that their movements would have appeared like a coordinated dance to the casual observer. Each hand knew just where to go next, the couple's lips never leaving exposed skin, each predicting the other's next move as only longtime lovers could do.

They continued their dance across the living room toward the bed in the far corner, leaving a trail of clothing along their path. The moment they reached the flat surface of the bed, Brittany gently pushed Santana down, straddling her and tossing her own bra to the floor.

The blonde leaned down, kissing her wife, pressing their breasts together, as her finger tips raked down Santana's midsection.

Santana moaned into Brittany's mouth and her back involuntarily arched.

Brittany sat up and moved her fingers to Santana's nipples, twisting both simultaneously.

"Ohhh god," Santana responded.

Brittany continued massaging the two mounds of flesh, leaning back down to suck on each one of Santana's hard nipples. As she sucked, she flicked with her tongue for added pleasure. Each time she did, Santana bucked underneath her.

Teasing her wife made Brittany more aroused, and she knew Santana could feel the amount of wetness between her legs as she moved around on top of her. She leaned in for one last deep kiss, her teeth biting Santana's bottom lip before she started moving down the length of the brunette's body, slowly trailing downward with the tip of her tongue along every inch of Santana's warm, brown skin.

Once perfectly situated between Santana's thighs, Brittany pushed up on her wife's hips to position her for easy access then with one long, fluid motion, Brittany licked Santana's center.

"Ohhhh…Brittttt."

Brittany smiled and continued to expertly lick, around and around and around, in a slow figure eight then a circle and another circle and various other motions, ending with a hard suck and several flicks of her tongue. Santana continued to arch and moan and call out Brittany's name until she was finally pushed over the edge into one of the most intense climaxes she had ever experienced.

Brittany wanted her wife to savor the intensity, lying quietly for a few minutes with her head resting peacefully on Santana's thigh. This was her favorite moment of sex with Santana, lying close to her, breathing in her scent with the taste of her ecstasy on Brittany's lips.

Santana had other plans for the tall blonde though, and after only a few calming minutes, the Latina pulled Brittany up toward her while expertly turning her over on her back. The kiss Santana gave Brittany left no doubt that she not only enjoyed what just happened but also that Santana desperately needed that connection with her wife again.

"I love you so much, Brittany," Santana told her, looking deep into Brittany's blue eyes.

Brittany smiled, a sweet smile, all sensuality set aside in that moment, and replied, "I love you too, sweetheart." 

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday, November 14, 2022<strong>

**9:26 am**

The moment Santana opened her eyes, she felt like she had just closed them the minute before. The daylight surrounding her suggested her otherwise.

_What time is it?..._she asked internally, reaching out to the bedside table in search of her phone. Feeling around did nothing to locate it. She lifted her head to look but dropped it immediately in self-defeat. The brunette felt bleary eyed and her mouth was so dry that her tongue was stuck to its roof. _Ugh, I need water_…she told herself.

Santana sat up and pulled her knees up to her chest. There was a sheet draped across most of her, but she recognized that she was very naked. With that realization, she heard movement behind the closed door of the bathroom and looked that direction. _Brittany_.

The night came flooding back to the Latina all at once. She and Brittany made love for hours then reminisced and ate grilled cheese and ice cream until dawn, finally drifting asleep in each other's arms.

The doorknob of the bathroom twisted and out stepped the blonde, freshly showered.

Brittany smiled widely at her wife, greeting her with a cheerful, "Good morning."

"A _very_ good morning," Santana responded with a sexy, knowing raise of her eyebrows.

Brittany walked to the side of the bed and leaned down to kiss Santana, before turning and collecting her clothes off the floor from the night before.

"You're already getting dressed?" Santana questioned.

Brittany returned to the area in front of the mirrored dresser, dropping her towel and stepping into her jeans. "I've got to start the day at some point, right?"

Santana shrugged, responding, "I guess."

Being on a schedule wasn't exactly Santana's strongest trait. Her body was weary from the night's activities, and her brain was still mostly asleep. Still, she wanted to seem agreeable to whatever Brittany wanted.

The Latina climbed off the bed, moving behind the taller girl, hugging her tightly with both arms.

"Let me get a quick shower then we can grab some breakfast," she suggested, placing several kisses along Brittany's broad shoulders.

Brittany turned to face Santana, kissing her lips. "I think it would be better for me to head home now."

As the blonde searched the floor for her shoes, Santana stood there watching. She was confused.

"I thought you _were_ home, Britt."

Brittany sat on the floor, putting on her shoes, looking up at her wife. Santana's disappointment was evident.

She reached for the brunette's hand and pulled her down to the floor with her. Santana was naked and vulnerable which broke Brittany's heart. Last night was supposed to be a good thing.

Brittany cupped her wife's face, telling her sincerely, "When I'm with you…like _this_…I'm definitely home. You're my heart, Santana."

Tears welled up in the brunette's eyes, and she shut them quickly to force composure.

"Look at me, honey," Brittany gently requested, and Santana opened her eyes, allowing one tear to escape and roll down her cheek. Brittany continued, "Last night was perfect, but I'm not ready to just push our issues aside."

"I'm trying, Britt," Santana choked out.

"I know, I know," she pulled Santana into a comforting embrace, confirming, "I see that, I do. But…this is more about me than about us or you. Please understand."

Santana shook her head, not able to vocalize her objection.

"We've been together forever, Tan. I've only ever known me as part of me and you," Brittany confided, "Being away from that identity has felt good, it feels freeing in a way."

Santana looked down at her hands. She couldn't bear to look Brittany in the eyes, conceding, "I've ruined us."

Brittany chuckled at her wife's tendency to be catastrophic. "No you didn't…but we can't sweep everything that happened under a rug and pretend it's all better now. We need time. We need to take it slow, ok?"

Santana felt a little less shattered, asking in a joking tone, "Last night was taking it slow?"

"Last night had its slow moments…like when I slowly took my tongue and…."

"Okay, okay," Santana stopped the rest of Brittany's sentence with a playful hand over her wife's mouth, "Stop right there or you'll get me all worked up again."

Brittany laughed, relieved that Santana was cheering up. She leaned in and kissed the brunette firmly, assuring her, "I'll text you soon, ok?"

Santana moved off Brittany's legs so the blonde could stand, missing her already but agreeing, "Okay."

Brittany bent back down and kissed Santana's cheek then headed for the front door, turning back around for a last glimpse and a smile, before disappearing.

Santana grabbed her fuzzy bathrobe and wrapped it around her, walking to the window, stuffing her hands inside its large pockets. She saw Brittany reach the front stoop and watched her until she vanished down the street.

The Latina stood there a moment, collecting her thoughts….so many thoughts, so many doubts, of what she could have said, _should _have said. It was no use though, the conversation was over. Brittany was gone again…and she let her go.

Santana thought a shower would help wash away her woes. As she turned, she heard a sharp buzz from her pants on the coffee table.

_My phone_, she remembered and pulled it out of the back pocket to see a new text. It was from Brittany. It read simply, "I love you xo". 

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>:

To anyone still reading this story, thank you for your endless patience! To anyone still actually enjoying this story, this update is purely due to your dedication and encouragement sent to me privately. I may be slow, but I do follow thru on my promises. Yes, there will be another chapter.


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